Dandelions
We pick all the dandelions;Nice lawns don't grow them.
Stuck inside glass vases
Behind rose-littered curtains,
They have their place.
\I asked Mama, "Where do they come from,
Those noisy sunbursts that we kill?"
She said, "Don't think it's killing.
They're only dandelions,
And this season is for real people."
\After that, I stopped giving names
To the ones I tied around my neck
In chains and kissed before they withered,
But I kept skipping the small ones
Just starting, with buds tightly shut
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