Dandelion goes from south to north, every winter day in the middle of the year. Tells you stories about lovers' longing and persistent devotees. How people met and how they said goodbye. Dandelion flies past your chest, digging old emotions and blurry remembrance.
Wood engulfed by fire, in one burning summer day. And he saw she never cared. And she never asked. Dandelion blows with monsoon, leaving behind the cold and into the warmth. Taking away silent plea and unspoken affection.
Words that he could not find, things that she failed to understand. Distant and cruel. Come with nothing, leave with nothing. Dandelion fades as the result of frictions. Closure is the time passing. Mending your heart and guide it open. Until next time, Dandelion goes from north to south.
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