Pretty without purpose
Are they born to be wasted?
The faraway fields
Speckled in yellows
They stay unnoticed
And, unappreciated,
In irony are pulled out
In exasperation
The revival of life
With no symbolisms
Ruthlessly abhorred
Viewed in disdain
Wistful and dying
Folklore bestows value
Grantor of wishes
Purveyor of passion.
Selfless are the dandelions
Resilient in charity
Thriving through it all
The timekeeper lives on
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