Dandelions

You believed your moment to go
was right.
the adulation ailing
amid this fight.

the storm brims at the surface,
thunder cracks and lightening strikes
but somewhere, I've got a garnished reverie
to take, tonight.

The stems of your unblown dandelions
bore into dithering dirt,
Your roots bake at the brink
of Dawn,
where September
dispelled her arid air
in fluid breaths
of dreams, unkempt

May the crossroads
paint you with peace
my own whole now deceased.

The spark and spurn writhes 
in withering palms
and unused days warning of your defeat
the guilt of losing
and ending your life.

You're that last fond memory
meeting the shoreline on a Summer's eve
burned in searing decline

the start of this day
will erode

The price
of missing you 
with bitter pride.