Dandelions

I saw a child pick
yellow flowers
and weave their stems
into a crown.
Dandelions.
The bugs were crawling
in and out
from between the petals
and a mother
shouted at her daughter.
Pests, she said.
Get them off your head.

I saw a child pick
yellow flowers
and put their bodies
into a glass of water.
Dandelions.
They were wilting
but still they resigned
gracefully
and a father
shouted at his son.
Weeds, he said.
They are lifeless, dead.

I saw a young boy and girl
holding hands
in a field
of yellow flowers.
Dandelions.
They held no knowledge
of weeds or pests
and let the colours
of the flowers
greet their youth.
Flowers, they sang.
And they danced in the dandelions
in the rain.

Nikki Satira