Dandelion
A place is gone
ravaged by fire
and left behind
is a wasteland.
Ash-fed nothing
and dreary rain
some would weep, but
hope holds strong.
Here she is,
floating in
battered gently
by falling drops.
Lion's tooth,
we would call her,
a weed, a nuisance,
a survivor.
She tosses aside
her parachute,
carried for miles
by capricious wind.
She sits herself down
and says "I'm here,
I'll make this place
a home again."
Dandelion survives
no matter what,
it's why we
call her a weed.
But those who cry
about "nuisance plants"
don't know
what she really is.
Dandelion survives
no matter what.
And as she thrives,
so does her home.
Within a year
that fire-torn wasteland
will bloom
thanks to her.
Maybe that's why
we make a wish
when we see her
ready to leave.
At some point
in time, there
was a child
who saved a forest.
And all because
they helped
the "nuisance" plant
rebuild it.