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.



Copyright on all my poems



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