Dandelion

My dandelion is dry.

All the petals withered away,

The stick is broken,

There is no fragrance.

The thorns are blunt,

I am faded now.

No wonder.

And, no shelter.

Once I had a bush,

Now, I am in a garland!

I am pale now and companionless.

No bees wandering around me—

My place is on the bookshelf.

But, honey, you are so humble.

Don’t forget to mumble.

You are beautiful in every way possible.

Beauty does not lie in utility.

Sometimes withering away makes sense.

Sometimes it means rejuvenation.

Sometimes fading away means regeneration.

You spread a vibe of remembrance.

That’s why you are treasured.

It does not matter if you are in a bush or a garland.

or in a bouquet wrapped up,

It does not matter whether you are grappled.

Your existence soothes the eyes.

Damn, you are a work of art!

Time Frame: 2023, Rokeya Hall, DU

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Farheen Akter Bhuian