Dandelion clock

It feels like the afternoon. Maybe it is the afternoon. Is it the afternoon of my Birthday? I try to remember cards and parcels but the place where they should be is empty. I remember a cake with lots of candles on it. Was that today? Am I hungry? That might help to tell what time it is. There is a feeling in my stomach but I can’t tell whether it is hunger. For some reason, I am holding a dandelion. A dandelion clock. I remember the feeling of picking dandelions - trying to break the tough stalk without disturbing the halo of seeds - but I don’t remember picking this one. I blow at the dandelion. Like blowing out candles on a cake. On my birthday I had a cake with lots of candles and I pretended that I couldn’t blow out the candles so that my Great-Grandchildren had to help me.

But I can still blow the dandelion clock and the seeds and hours and days float away into the air.