I stumble across a flower. It is a dandelion. More of a weed, than a flower I would say, but you and I disagree on that one. You believe that it is a flower, a beautiful yellow flower, yellow like the sun.
There are millions of solar systems
Right in our backyard
And you pick the most
Radiant one to gift to me.
I bring it inside even though I have seasonal allergies and it brightens up our kitchen table. It smells like my childhood and for a moment I am taken back to a different time in a different country where I used to pick wildflowers and put them in a vase in my bedroom, ignoring the sneezing and pretending that I am a grown-up with my very own vase of flowers in my very own kitchen doing grown-up things. How ironic now to be the grown-up pretending to be a child again. My daughter thinks my eyes are watery because her flower made me sad. I tell her all about seasonal allergies. She is not convinced. She may not be able to tell a flower from a weed, but she knows when mom is crying.