Dandelion (written by April Trice)

This child, so pure

With clear eyes

She sees.

Not dirt

Nor weeds

…just the Majesty.

Those who are broken

She knows them well.

Like love’s small oracle

Their fears, she quells.

From birth

Her soul was meant to shine.

At times I’m humbled

For this child is mine.

I watch her walk through life,


She’s against the tide

She walks upstream.

With no complaints

She embraces a world

That holds the mystery

That soothes the soul.

The weeds are flowers

The dirt, magic sand.

She sees the opulence

And finds it bland.

Born of nature

It’s there she dwells.

The sun, the moon

Her childhood pals.

Where others falter

This child, she shines.

She knows no fear

To hate, she’s blind.

Oh, how she wishes there could be

One thousand and one

Dandelion seeds.

To scatter

To spread

Across the land.


To the shout of man.

A weed! They say.

You pull it OUT.

Don’t scatter all those seeds about!

A weed?

What’s that?

I know not the word.

This child of mine

Thinks man absurd.

For if they had sense

And if they had eyes

Then they’d see with certainty.

The Dandelion .


Who is this spirit

Bequeathed to me?

I’m humbled

To be raising


Your heart


Your smile

So kind.

I love you

My child.

With your




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