An unhappy dandelion exclaimed:
'Please don’t call me a weed!
I started life, like all of you -
As a simple little seed.
'Then one day, from my meadow home,
I was carried on the breeze -
Yes, far away from all I knew,
High up above the trees.
'From right up there, I could gaze down
On woods, on hills and dales
And, like a ship, I sailed the skies
Upon MY tiny sails.
'Then, when the breeze stopped for a rest,
I gently floated down
And see, I’ve landed where you are,
On a flower bed of your town.'
The other flowers just glared at him:
'You’re just a common weed!' –
'GOD planted ME,' came his reply,
'Whilst MAN planted YOUR seed.
'GOD decided where I'd grow.
He sent me sun and rain,' - - -
But a gardener then came on the scene
And it was very plain - -
That the dandelion's time on earth
Had now come to its end,
For no-one here would show him love
And here he'd find no friend.
The dandelion, torn from its home,
Was a sad sight, yes, indeed -
For it hadn’t learned that in man’s sight,
It would always be a weed.
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