Reflection

Dandelion

I’ve been learning the chords for a handful of songs on my ukulele this evening instead of writing the multiple english papers I have this week, and I get a laugh out of the incorrect lyrics the chord sites often list. This one was particularly silly (Where the presents are loans? What could that possibly even mean?)

Incorrect lyrics to Jack Johnson’s “Angel”

I’ve got an angel
She doesn’t wear any wings
She wears a heart that compelled my own
She wears a smile that can make me wanna sing
She gives me presents
Where the presents are loans
She gives me everything I could wish for
She gives me kisses on the lips just for coming home

Accurate lyrics to Jack Johnson’s “Angel”

I’ve got an angel
She doesn’t wear any wings
She wears a heart that can melt my own
She wears a smile that can make me wanna sing
She gives me presents
With her presence alone
She gives me everything I could wish for
She gives me kisses on the lips just for coming home

To continue my evening of protesting schoolwork, I threw my camera over my shoulder to accompany me on my evening bike ride. Missed the sunset, of course, but snapped a few anyway.

Firmly planted, their roots hold them upright in the soil.
Delicate,
fleeting,
content to accept.
They remind us of the
beauty of spring,
the temporal nature of life.
They hold promise.
They share promise.

Sometimes I feel like a dandelion,
without answers though.
Seeking.
Seeking to share.
My feet firmly planted on the ground,
but one of many,
alone and unoriginal,
unique but meaningless,
still managing to be crushed and overlooked,
until I will simply blow away.

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