I Don’t Want to Be A Young Man Again

An hour ago, I closed my eyes and imagined I was a dandelion seed floating on the wind.

I haven’t acted with spontaneity in years, haven’t drifted over ceramic bunnies in front yards or bounced up warm windshields or hovered across asphalt like a hockey puck across the ice in a decade.

I don’t want to be a young man whose dreams get blown away again.

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