nowhere, unworthy to be known. Even the language of flowers spoke, but never of you. To others, you were a pest; to some, a weed – worthy to be plucked. Yet to the lawn, you were a blessing; you were his sun – a kind of light that rests but is always there.
The flower understood the loneliness of the
lawn, and she shares her joy, lifting it away. While other greens despise the flower’s existence, this lawn stood and made a promise – that no matter how they are apart, even roses grew on him, she will always be the lawn’s dandelion.