I tend to think often about dandilions

cacophonus shouts of color on distinctly green and freshly cut lawns

chubby fingers uprooting sticky pipe stems 

charished flower buquets at the corners of smiles

 

youth sheilds me with innocence 

and by pardon i couldn't see the eyes that rolled in my mothers head

at my childish act of kindness tossed into a water glass

 

i'd skip away then

missing the moment entirely as the weed is tossed again

now down the drain

 

there was once a moment in time before we are concerned with hate

they call them wreched weeds

dandilions

youthful intentions distinguish them as something beautiful, flowers

but perhaps we learned we were wrong

 

ugliness is taught, or perhaps we would never see it

everything capable of beauty 

before given reason to disdain 

or ever more avert from it though it was a plague

 

white fluff redecorates the once mustered yellow claim

fables promised us wishes

and so we blow and blow and wish and wish 

 

maybe they hated them so much because their own wishes never came true