Dandelions For Mommy
Most think of this as a weed and don’t consider it a flower,
But I watched my young son gather dandelions for an hour.
“They are so pretty and yellow, I am picking them just for her.
Mommy will love them so because they’re her favorite color.”
He squats and he picks each one near the bottom of the stem,
Then stares and examines it; they each look different to him.
He sniffs in wonderment, carrying each gift over to hand to me,
And adds it to the pile of glory he will present to his Mommy.
The dandelions are everywhere, scattered throughout the park;
He could continue to pick each one until the skies all grow dark.
Most people would say the grounds were terribly cared for,
But to my son, a more fantastic garden he’d never seen before.
The time came for us to go, though he didn’t want to stop;
We gathered up his beautiful flowers, over twenty in the lot.
So happy and yet so sad he walked up to his Mommy proud and brave,
And laid down his gift of love; his bouquet upon her grave.
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