The Wish

In one puff, you were gone, like the wind carrying the fuzzy seeds of the dandelion, you continued, the green stem of hope remaining with me. Between tiny fingers which dug in the rain splattered earth, gnawing for treasures left by survivors, nails painted in pretty pink which had chipped away quickly, like the chocolate bunny's ears missing from eager, stealing teeth. From behind the beds of iris, daffodils or were they buttercups? Blue eyes stopped believing, just for a time, that there were Indian head coins, arrowheads or gold; a mist of loss washed over me, my wishes caught up in the wind with a never ever wanted feeling of losing you, my made-up childhood friend.