Dandelion Love

I wrote this poem for my new sister this year. She wanted a poem about how dandelions and weeds are like love. I sure hope I did it justice considering how much she and my brother love each other :) You will find as much symbolism and metaphor as you choose. It's open for interpretation.

In case you have a hard time reading the poem on the photograph, I've transcribed it below. 

-Best! Esther :)

Dandelion Love

Dandelions, clover, and common weeds,

grown from minuscule seeds.

Blown upon wind and taken by bees,

these ordinary, unimpressive, common weeds.

Dandelions sprout from puffs of white

that dance and shine, reflecting sunlight.

The regular man takes no note of the sight,

as life begins in a puff of white. 

Clover is carried on tiny hairs

as workers and lovers choose to share.

Bees share their time, their talents and wares,

and clover will grow, spread on tiny hairs.

Weeds, noticed rarely, pulled up by the roots,

considered a nuisance of tiny shoots.

Weeds, that flower make soft trails for boots,

if treated with care, not ripped up by the roots.

But wait! Something changes and it really is rare!

Two people are willing and ready to care!

Ordinary measures find spectacular means

as they start taking note of the regular things.

Dandelions grow all over the place.

They try, and retry, though opposition they face.

Drops of joyful sunshine, rarely noticed, find space.

As two grow together, right in their place.

Ready and willing, the clover will form,

the softest foundation of caring and warmth.

Little white flowers will quickly appear,

Fruits of your labors, not counted in years.

Weeds! Such a name! They are wildflowers, really.

Untamed, unexplained, and always so thrilling.

Blue, pink, purple, red tinged with yellow,

Flowers and sweet smells wish you well on your travels.

Dandelions, clover, and common weeds,

Pop up in everyday places it seems.

Though easily tread on and taken for granted,

When noticed and tended, they are miracles planted.

Tread lightly my heart, speak kindly my voice.

Each day I am faced with a beautiful choice.

'Tis a concept misunderstood by too many,

that love grows and thrives on something smaller than pennies.

Find joy in the small things, be ready to smile.

Be sharing and caring, and willing to try.

Blown on the wind, and sent from above,

Never let go of your Dandelion Love.