As seeds blow from the dandelions <br />Across the fallow field, <br />They sail upon the autumn breeze <br />Like parachutes they go, <br />Whilst floating through the chilly air <br />To some place far away, <br />And then shall rest upon the ground <br />When in the spring they'll grow. <br /> <br />To spread their mark upon the land <br />And furnish it with gold, <br />To every corner they shall dwell <br />Then rise in majesty, <br />And colour England with their grace <br />In every nook and verge, <br />Though some shall fall to stone and stream <br />And meet their destiny. <br /> <br />Alas my heart does feel for those <br />Deprived the chance to live, <br />Who never bloomed within the sun <br />And lost for evermore, <br />I stand alone and watch them go <br />And bless them as they rise, <br />To seek the breeze and fly afar <br />The wait for snow to thaw.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/parachutes/
