I have lost my smile, but don't worry. The dandelion has it.
So much love, too much love, it is our madness, it is rotting us out, exploding us like dandelion polls.
The dandelions and buttercups gild all the lawn: the drowsy bee stumbles among the clover tops, and summer sweetens all to me.
Most of the dandelions had changed from suns into moons.