When my leaves start to curl

And my stems loose stability

Know my seeds

Which connect to my heart

Are aching.

I may be gone for a while,

my mind like the fruits of dandelion puffs,

But though I no longer flourish

Or radiate such life,

I know my passing will bring colour to more leaves.

And stability to more stems.

And warmth to more hearts.

Because there will be beauty in my death.

I'll be a beautiful dead thing.