The mistake was light and easy in my hand,
A seed meant to be borne upon the wind.
I did not have to bury it or throw,
Just open up my hand and let it go.
The mistake was dry and small and without weight,
A breeze quickly snatched it from my sight,
And even had I wanted to prevent,
Nobody could tell me where it went.
I did not think on the mistake again,
Until the spring came, soft, and full of rain,
And in the yard such dandelions grew
That bloomed and closed, and opened up, and blew.
beautiful poetic gist about mistake; mistake can be happened but not frequently; nice to read the poem
Lovely poem. Recently chanced upon your poem Daedal. So glad to see your presence on PH
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
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