Dandelions weren’t always seen
as infectuous.
They were born,
their yellow tops thought of
nothing less
than beautiful.
But as time went on,
the grass told them
they were the first ones to get mowed.
Roses snorted at their attempt
at what they could never be.
Tulips dug them from their
own mail box spaces.
When fall rolled around,
the dandelions saw
their oppurtunity to disappear.
Yellow tops
turned into white fluff balls.
No one saw the signs of deterioration,
they only saw the outcome.
Thanks for this. Even dandelions deserve a poem…
I enjoy this, too! You might enjoy reading James Wright’s “Milkweed.” Different tone, but similar focus. I really like the view of triumph through deterioration. We ain’t just old!
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