The Dandelion's Colour

As she blows 

The hair of the dandelion flows

Holding on tight to the wish

The heart of the world in its hands

It will soar over the bridge 

Over the waterfalls

Over the farms

Over the land of many

Up in the clouds

Waving to the trees 

Watching the birds chatting

Through the rain

Across the river

Towards that soft patch of grass

The blades of glory

The dew on them

Meaning morning

It lies down

Carrying that wish

The color of the world.