Like fragments of dandelion flying softly in the wind,
He is swayed, pushed, and tripped by some invisible force
Unruffled, he gets up and manages a huge childish grin
Steady! Steady now, in order to remain on course
Too feathery and light to keep still yet still challenged by gravity
Perhaps he is really the seed - young, eager, and unready to give up
And not yet affected by the world's depravities
Innocent, pretty, and sweet is his smile, like honey syrup
Even his laughter is sugarcoated with true elation
Maybe he is more like nectar, attracting bees by the flock
But this I am certain is true: he is an inspiration
My nephew is learning how to walk