As a child I thought them to be flowers
Growing in multitudes in the back yard
When they had expired in their beauty
Dispersion coming when the wind blew hard
Making necklaces and crowns for my mother
Out in the morning sun
She told me dandelions were just weeds
My illusion in downward spiral was spun
Dead silence upon that revelation
Beauty gone from impressions in my mind
Nevermore to make a necklace
Acceptance within my head began to grind
Destruction of the crown I had just made
Mere lowly weeds-not in my mothers hair
A dark day where birds no longer sang
In the memory of what I must bare
I just wanted to lay down in my room
There I remained until my father came home
I stared at the ceiling beyond my horizon
Wandering to the sound of my metronome
Its somber pace brought me to a calm
As it had done in times before
I never noticed the form of my father
Who watched me from my bedroom door
Knowing the magnitude of my reality
Like a child whose toys had stopped talking
Reminding me of the dandelions dispersion
Causing multitudes to grow
The realization of creation
And the right of a child to know
The joy of making a crown for their mother
Believing them to only be flowers
Spent days in the warm sun laughing
Beyond all earthly powers
A time to be remembered
When innocence performed its miracle
In remembrance of its effect on me
Now seems to be almost satirical
They are looked upon with sympathy
For what must be endured to the ends
When their pods are sent into the air
Prisoners to the way the current bends
It is a lovely thing for a dandelion
To be used in such a way
Of crowns and necklaces for a mother
In the innocence of a passing day
~Moses~
© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
