…yellow and unashamed

The wind rises, and clouds move slowly across the stars
as the darkness paints black, over everything
yet beneath my feet, the dandelions remain
yellow and unashamed, small suns, surrounded by night
I leave them there with my ghosts
perhaps by morning they will belong to the daylight again
perhaps the darkness will surrender them
but tonight they belong to memory, to longing
to everything we once believed to be eternal
as I walk away, I swear I hear the dandelions whispering
not every haunting asks to be remembered
but waits for you to finally stop looking back
perhaps the stars, after centuries of hanging above us
watching our small lives begin and end
watching lovers make promises, beneath their light
that neither time nor human frailty, will allow them to keep
perhaps the stars, sometimes release themselves from heaven
and fall, not dramatically, no blazing trail
perhaps they descend silently through the darkness
and settle upon the earth, as yellow dandelions
I like to imagine this, when I walk beneath the night sky
the field is full of them tonight, little golden stars
scattered through the grass, beneath their celestial reflections
above, the constellations, below, the dandelions
and somewhere between, there is me
belonging entirely to neither the earth, nor the sky
the moon hangs low, pale and contemplative
and the wind moves gently through the flowers
there are memories of you, buried so deeply within me
that I no longer know where they end and where I begin
but time has softened the edges
still evidence of something shattered
but now beautiful in a different way
the dandelions still nod beneath the stars
the field does not become black because night has arrived
for there is yellow everywhere
flowers holding sunlight, long after sunset
one day these yellow dandelions will become white
their golden petals will vanish and the wind will arrive
and suddenly they will release themselves
hundreds of tiny parachutes lifting towards the night
disappearing amongst the stars
©Ann Bagnall