Through the eyes of child a Dandelion holds color,
Through the eyes of child a gift to a mother;
Through the eyes of a gardener the dandelion holds seeds,
No value, no beauty, nothing but weeds.
A flower so beautiful, chubby hands hold tight,
A rare treasure to place in water and guard through the night;
Through the eyes of an adult, the Dandelion must die,
Rush to the store, a pesticide to buy.
Through the eyes of child, a puff ball to blow,
Through the eyes an adult, a nuisance, a weed to control;
Tiny umbrellas in the wind that rise to the sky,
Bring enhancement to children as they watch them sail by.
Life is like that Dandelion in so many ways,
Seasons of color, goodness and love through the day;
Then along comes the pain, it marches in and turns off the light,
When someone pours poison and we long to give up the fight.
But we must hang on through the dark and choose faith like a child,
Forgive the bitter, and walk the road of the meek, the mild
Once again color emerges with simple pleasures that delight,
We will soar above the carnage, and live in the light.
Like a puffball in the wind, when we grow old,
Scattered here, scattered there, scattered a hundredfold,
Let our lives exude goodness, let seeds of joy abound,
Let us spread love, and color, and joy all around.
And let it be said, when like that dandelion seed we fly away,
She will be missed, she will be loved, for many a day.