As she wandered through the fields of fading green and sparkling soft gold,
only a few delicate dandelions clung stubbornly to the dried ground.
And along with one final fleeting summer breeze,
the last of the dandelion wishes and dreams drifted away aimlessly,
disappearing until the spring.
Fall crept through the valley, tenderly painting the earth
and ignighting it’s trees with fiery sunsets of autumn leafs.
Those who call dandelions weeds will never understand nature’s whispers of magical things…