Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

How dare they call a dandelion a weed

with petals as radiant as the rays of sun,

Thousands of little yellow arms

Basking under the morning light,

Pops of color against a dull green lawn

On a hot summer day

How dare they pluck it from its 

home in mother earth,

Where its spindly roots

Cave deep into the soil, 

And its brothers and sisters 

Bloom all around to do the same

It isn't fragile like the tulip,

Cute like the buttercup, 

or fragrant as the carnation, yet

How dare they call a golden flower a weed

Just because of its strength

And its will to survive