You love your dandelions, Brooke
and so do I, they steal the show ~
Though labeled weeds in garden's book,
they spread a sunny golden glow.
A little girl, I made their leis
to proudly wear upon my head;
I watched the verdant fields ablaze
with yellow flame on grassy bed.
Your poems glorified their flair,
your genius matched their sparked appeal.
Your metered verse distilled the air,
Those lucky flowers - what a deal.
I'd like to bring their gold bouquet
to your sick room, they'll get you well --
Their light will keep disease at bay,
Your rhyme-ordained, they'll fetch their spell.
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Author Notes
You love your dandelions, don't you, dear Brooke? They love you too! In fact, hundreds of them gathered together to form a huge bouquet, and they asked me to bring them to your hospital room, to get you well.
We miss you so much here, dearest friend! Please come back to us soon...
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