Dandelion

I sit here at my desk

looking through the slats in my blinds, as if they were bars in a prison.

They’re not there to make me feel like I’m stuck inside.

They hold out the sun, so it doesn’t damage my things.

A puff of dandelion seeds blows by

and I wonder what it would be like to float freely in the wind.

I’m pulled away from my thoughts by the ringing of a phone.

I sit here at my desk

looking through the slats in my blinds, as if they were bars in a prison.

Tom

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