When you were small, pretentious, not tall, and unconscious You'd grab a yellow dandelion for your hair or a white one to blow into the air the seed you blew would fly high and then far out then you'd turn around and run by. You never stopped to wonder just how far the seed could go. There goes the thunder, now you know. You run deep into wonder. How could one blow make it go so far out? Will the seed ever happen to make it back? The chances are under. Now you're bigger, less pretentious, taller, and more conscious.
This poem has a deeper meaning to it, as I assume most do. Think about it! This is my entry for @VintageBoots's Autumn Writing Contest. If you're a writer, consider joining! :)
