Dandelion wings

I try to catch you like a dandelion wing
After I blow on a wish
And before it rings true
They say it's bad omen
For I should let it fly
But what difference does it make

If I manage to press
The spine of that dandelion
Between words in black ink
After they were written
Before the pages are turned
Like a bookmark of sorts
But not really
I don't intend to return
But what difference does it make
Is it the same if I do?

I'm afraid I'll look too hard
At the little wing's wing
And how much it resembles
The dried spine in my book
But what difference does it make
I don't measure space with dandelion wings
Or time with thoughts