Dandelion

She’s just a dandelion,

Wanted for a wish,

Used and then forgotten,

You breathe her seeds a kiss.

Such beauty in that moment, though,

As she flies through sky and sun,

And plants herself for more to see,

For a dandelion’s never one.

Many see her beauty,

As the wind takes her even further,

But soon they only see a weed,

And then set out to hurt her.

But what could be more perfect,

Than a field of unwished wishes?

Where once they thought her magic,

They now think her malicious.

She thought she was a flower,

But people always saw a weed,

As she gave them all she had to give,

Their wishes from her seeds.

She lives in fitful sorrow,

Only wanted for a time,

Used and then forgotten,

They say, “she’s just a dandelion.”

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