To Ms. Dandelion (Sonnet)

One’s innocence of thought is not to taint;

But chance and luck, to die, are their own die,

So rolled the eyes I mulled of blue to paint

The dandelions I would bring to lie.

It’s when you blinked, the sea in me arose,

And though I failed the art of lean and learn

To press or rip your buttons...but surprise

Would win occasion, there my waves would turn

On something new to grasp, despite the clues

In scatterings, for then the sun to sing

Our eyes together, whether jazz or blues

Invoked the rhythm－close enough to ring!

You wanted matrimony made to light,

Yet all the yellow rich in me drew fright.