A Dandelion Journey
for the road, the rain, and the one I love
I set out from the airport’s gate,
Two wheels beneath me, full of fate.
I rode through Iceland’s wild, wide lands,
With wind and rain and frozen hands.
Each night I pitched my tent alone,
Beneath the stars, on lava stone.
The midges bit, the storm winds howled,
Yet something deep inside me growled—
A hunger not just born of miles,
But dreams, and pain, and love in trials.
Through golden plains and mountains high,
Where boiling springs and spirits lie,
I bathed in warmth, I breathed the steam,
And chased the tail of every dream.
I crossed a pass to reach the north,
Through mud and rain I battled forth.
The sky wept hard, the trail was rough,
But so am I—just strong enough.
My belly called, with every spin,
So hunger too became my kin.
And when I stopped, I’d find delight
In petting horses, left and right—
Bright dandelions in my hand,
Like candies fed across the land.
I reached Akureyri at last,
Where memories and music passed.
I danced beneath the final light,
With locals raving through the night.
But even joy was tinged with ache—
For love once near, now feels opaque.
She’s far away in distant land,
And I can’t hold her by the hand.
But still I feel, across the sky,
A thread of love that won’t let die.
She’s England’s bloom in India’s sun,
And I, a Swiss soul on the run.
Though distance tries to pull us thin,
I know our hearts still beat within.
⸻
So if you ever feel alone,
Remember roads you once have known—
The rain, the songs, the horses wild,
The storm, the stars, the inner child.
For love, like Iceland’s fire and snow,
Still burns, still flows, still dares to grow.
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