A lone dandelion bud glistened in the starry night, lying under the twinkling, dark blue sky, blissfully nestled in a vast meadow surrounded by tall blades of grass. Its short stem shook in the gusty wind, struggling to regain balance. The whisper of the breeze hung in the cold air, urging the bud to blossom, face the unknown, complete its cycle, so that one day, a hopeless person or a happy child could blow on its white fuzz, eagerly awaiting the heavens to grant their wish true.















