Dandelions

Brush the pollen kiss across each cheek,
and then the memories flood back. 
We remember the days when rain would pour and 
you and I would dance in the fields of yellow flowers we call dandelions.
When we would pick them for the joy of dandelion chains on Mayday.
The days where we would dance in the puffs of dandelion fluff. 
We would lie in the fields full of green grass and gorgeus flowers we call 
                         dandelions.