I am the dandelion 

A delicate flower bloomed straight from a home, one without sorrow, one where love is shown. 

With tufts that convey, beauty and love, yet draw winds so strong, each one flies above. 

Whether wind or snow or rain or shine, i'm still there and i am fine. 

If i droop no one comes, yet when i rise there are some. 

They see a pretty flower but not what goes on, my stem cant stand forever, sometimes it falls. 

Thrown on the floor after they have their fun, i still look beautiful with no tufts or some. 

It might bring a smile, it might bring a tear, but with each gust a pappy or two disappear. 

Despite no pappies, despite no leaves, I stand tall and am pretty with ease. 

Even with a blow so light like a feather, i still loose something forever and ever. 

Sometimes its nice when the wind comes and goes, and i get a gust, that makes me feel shone. 

Being a dandelion means people will come, if they see you sitting, they'll give you a hug. But sometimes it's painful when they don't come near and watch from afar as if your not here. 

Without my pappies, I can feel shabby, as if i'm alone and no one can help me. 

But still the sun comes and i feel alive, i'm back to being me and so i can shine. 

I love being a dandelion, so pretty and strong, just sometimes it hurts and i wish to be gone.