The weed, knowing it was good,
Deprived of love, where once it stood.
It dreamed of bees on petals fair,
yet found itself jilted for lack of care,
this flower, simply misunderstood…
The seedling in the sunlight’s glow,
In a rich man’s garden, ready to grow.
Yet deprived of water it was jilted,
thirsting for love it wilted.
Life was cut short by the garden hoe.
Yet it’s sister seed found another plot,
in a kinder ground in a sunny spot,
under the drain spout, it began to bloom,
it flourished as a flower, given some room.
thankful for its lowly lot.
From her sprouted, hopeful seeds
that now grow wild to meet many needs.
Love, is a mirage, in cultivation’s scheme,
The dandelion feeds the pollinators’ dream.
And in the wilds, it thrives, Queen of weeds.
WoPoLi 
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