THE STORY Pt.3

 

What are promises,

Without actions.

What are actions,

Without consequences.

 

A baby dandelion

Sat on my palm,

As I rode the Ferris wheel.

 

The enthusiastic children cheered,

As they reached closer

To the blissful bluey sky.

 

How naïve of them

To think they could fly.

The wreaking wind grinned,

As she sang of false hope.

-Manya Singh Patel