Baby Girl, Dandelion
by Ash R.
· 28/12/2025
Published 28/12/2025 17:45
The sun cuts through the oaks,
long strips of warmth and shadow
on uneven ground.
I skirt the iron fence,
a rusted smile.
Small stones tilt,
like forgotten teeth.
And there, a flat slate,
almost swallowed by grass,
'Baby Girl, 1952.'
From a hairline crack
in the granite,
a dandelion pushes up,
yellow as a bruise,
fierce and bright.
It leans into the light,
a small, rude flag.