Dandelion Wine 2 Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef


In the heart of summer's slice,
where sunlight spills golden
and laughter floats on safety's breeze,
a bottle waits, shy yet brave,
on a dusty shelf of dreams.

It murmurs of past days—
the sweet scent of grass crunching
underneath barefooted runs,
the whispers of trees with tales
as old as childhood joys.

A sunbeam dances; I pick up the glass -
every sip, a taste of sun-drenched hours,
pressed petals from blooms of October,
the bright dare of laughing voices,
soaking in dusk's soft purple glow.

Time in this place slows to a heartbeat,
as the world spins full of colors,
and the pavement sings with shadows,
laughter calls to catch fireflies
while youth sleeps in forgotten corners.

My hands, sticky with laughter,
gather this liquid memory,
each drop shimmered with spontaneity,
not just a drink, but a potion brewed
from the magic of simple moments.

These streets hold stories like whispers—
the boy who shot rockets to the stars,
the girl with dreams sewn like ribbons,
people who painted their lives
with dandelion dreams and warm hopes.

May we keep this bottle, unsealed,
raise it high to the skies,
where clouds swirl like wonder,
and promise that every taste,
is not just for now, but forever leaned into tomorrow.

So let's wander beneath the sun's arms,
where the air is sweet and heavy,
lost in a summer that lingers,
and every sip brings us back
to the bright lore of bright days.

Let's remember, in the gathering dusk,
to claim our joys, one by one,
like dandelions borne on the wind—
each wish a soft arrival
in this fleeting dance of life.

For all that starts with a glance,
and everything that breathes—
this is the magic we catch,
the wine of our days,
and we are young, again,
in every vintage shadow.