Dandelion, do not want to fly

"Dandelion, yellow flowers, the flowers off the umbrella to fight. White umbrella, great ability, with God baby friends. Fluttering, floating, Sasa Sa, yellow full Shanwa next year." "Dandelion, yellow flowers ..."
Smoke-filled world, however vaguely ethereal voice came pulling, stretching deep, through my empty soul, my messy thoughts. I am exceedingly strange: "Who's here to sing it?"
Thus, Following the sound. The first is the golden preserved everywhere, greeted by, confused with my eyes. Passing breeze, grass green and yellow against the background of each other, touch each other with, free of any air flying his own dance, with the melody of the song's charm becomes more and more the spirit of spring. In the blue sky, the yellow background canvas, flickering in half a body stuck in a lengthy blowing over. I went over to see, was a little sister. She saw me, panic-stricken, they always turn 180 degrees, quickly rubbed his eyes. After a long, squat down with a small hand will be playing with a dandelion, golden hands full.
I am curious to ask: "girl, you doing it?"
She said: "Sister, why the dandelion to fly it?"
I said: "The laws of nature it! As people grow up, they want to leave home as well."
Sister eclipsed, leaving it face, the body weak swing slightly in the breeze. But people can still see the cracks in her tears as under the eaves of the beads, drop by drop, fall dandelion petals, clear and bright. Then, even with a weak voice said, sobbing: "Mom does not have seven or eight at home, and finally can see my mother this year, but wait until the dandelion flowers, her left hand to help if I block the wind Dandelion, so it does not fly away, the mother will not go. is not it? "little sister happy by the sad turn, stared at me, full of expectation. I repeated the phrase: "Yes, your mother will not take as long as you study hard, grow up, your mother will never go. In fact, dandelion, do not want to fly."
I squat body, stroked dandelion, heart burst of pain and did not really go? Why? I looked at the hands of the dandelion, in this bleak picture, the dandelion, wind, leaving the hands of only a few leaves ... ... knew it, tears have been bombs fell on the fingers, slide dandelion leaves, wet a dry thin veins. From this, I seem to see themselves and those who left before the next tragedy, roots, was long withheld.
Spring in the walk, the cold and taken away, the lonely squandered, leaving only the beauties of springtime.
Dandelion, do not want to fly. Helpless to fly.
Dandelion, do not want to fly. Because there is no wallow in the warmth of the root, heavy to fly.
Dandelion, do not want to fly. Because no one considered the heart and care about it, lonely and fly.
Dandelion, do not want to fly. Because before the flight, they need a warm home, even if the home is not home is home.
Dandelion, do not want to fly.