Dandylions.
The noxious weed that everyone is trying to dispose of.
The pretty little yellow faces that litter the plain green of a million manicured lawns.
I remember as a child... sitting outside in the afternoon sun.
Plucking them from the earth one by one till my fingers were sticky and covered with the white juice of their stems.
I slit them, just below the flower to watch the head droop over. I pulled the stem of another through the small opening. Using this method I would make chains of them. Knotting the ends to make necklaces or crowns.
The queen of weeds.
Queen in a world where nothing was ever more beautiful than the death that touched my brow, that circled my neck and wrists.
In later months... They would die on their own... Those that managed to escape me.
Their yellow petals had become soft white spheres of oppurunity. Oppurtunity to make a wish. Everyone likes wishing... though we know it is vain.
Its more like lying to yourself. Well enough to be convinced to waste what precious little hope there is left... Even as a child.
So I wished.. I blew as hard as I might.. I watched each little piece of that lie float out and away... Each little piece, that carried a seed.
Of another yellow face.
Of another queen's crown.
Another legacy of lies and a wish that will never come true.

Kitty.