I tend to think often about dandilions
cacophonus shouts of color on distinctly green and freshly cut lawns
chubby fingers uprooting sticky pipe stems 
charished flower buquets at the corners of smiles
youth sheilds me with innocence 
and by pardon i couldn't see the eyes that rolled in my mothers head
at my childish act of kindness tossed into a water glass
i'd skip away then
missing the moment entirely as the weed is tossed again
now down the drain
there was once a moment in time before we are concerned with hate
they call them wreched weeds
youthful intentions distinguish them as something beautiful, flowers
but perhaps we learned we were wrong
ugliness is taught, or perhaps we would never see it
everything capable of beauty 
before given reason to disdain 
or ever more avert from it though it was a plague
white fluff redecorates the once mustered yellow claim
fables promised us wishes
and so we blow and blow and wish and wish 
maybe they hated them so much because their own wishes never came true 


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