After the war,
and the forest burned down,
Nothing was left,
save the scorched barren ground.
All that was there,
just went up in flames,
Not one thing living,
was left to remain.
The wind blew the smoke,
and the rain washed the ash;
You would think such destruction
forever would last.
But along with spring rains
there were flowers that grew,
And the scorched land was green,
with fields living and new.
They thrived and they flourished,
Yellow dandelion fields,
Carpeting the land,
with yellow flowers they yield.
Then yellow turned white,
as their seeds filled the air,
Floating to new fields,
to flourish somewhere.
They were carried aloft,
Oh they dance and they fly,
And carried to new fields,
in the Dandelion Sky.
1/19/05