I am a dandelion on a warm summer’s day.>Children call me a flower and make wishes as they play,but as they grow, I’m no longer friend.Im a weed, I’m a nuisance, I’m a means to an end. Gardeners tell them I’m bad for their lawn,their neighbors say that I must be gone.I’m no rose, no violet, no carnation,and they don’t want others judging their reputation. They don’t say goodbye, they simply take a step away,and before I know it, I’ve been betrayed.If they want a weed, they I can step up.Somehow, I promise, I will keep showing up. Im not trying to fix whats been broke,Im just a reminder this behavior is like poison oak;before you know it, the fever will spread,and all dandelions will end up dead.