RedRavenPoems

Roots grow deep. Roots grow strong, to survive any wrong.

Golden flowers bloom before our eyes

Yet to most they are despised.

A weed, a blight, a hateful plight.

They ruin our perfect yards we say. Take up space for others to play.

Yet we have forgotten the wisdom of old

And in our arrogance grown bold.

They have such a bitter taste. Will leave a strange look upon ones face.

Yet they are a tasty treat, if one a nourishing snack will seek.

The flowers we can eat, the leaves and stems as well.

The Roots we dry and roast so easily, they make a delicious brew.

One that is quite good for you.

Their golden color marks them out. Until the cycle comes about.

Then children will laugh and shout

As they puff upon crowns of white.

The seed they puff the seeds they blow

And watch as wind carried where they will go.

Elders roll their eyes at this game

Forgetting in their youth they did the same.

The dandelion, a weed to most

Has so much joy of which to boast.