The wind flapped its wings to a black dandelion,

caressed its petals, fondled its roots, seduced it like the Siren

 

I watched the wind and I wrote my own sin

while secluded desire burnt the heart in bonfire

 

As the stronger the wind blew,

the higher the black dandelion grew;

warm Spring faced its foe

 

O…pain!

My hands are tied

to the Moon on a tide

and to the wrong when it’s right

 

The night is now dimed but I keep writing my sin

Secluded fire, my heart is invaded by desire

 

yet the more restraint my soul whispers,

the stronger I shake the twisters;

and the Spring turns back to winters

 

For better or worse,

For the soul of every verse,

I’ll ride the wind, I’ll grasp my sin

I’ll let the desire burn its own fire

 

O..black dandelion!

Will I have you in another season?

 

(MN, Spring 2017)