When all the stadium lights are dimming, flickering, sending a message
to flee, a young girl squats down on fading green grass
In her left hand, a dandelion, in the other, a pencil,
snapped in half, the point dull.
with closed eyes and trembling pale fingers,
she blows, the dandelion breaking apart, floating in the soundless night
she traces a single word, imprinted on the delicate flesh:
A release, from the chains of depression
A release, from the neglect at home
A release, for big dreams, and a big bright future
More than a passion, more than imagination
It is the very things that defines, you.