He said, “Gram’s, I picked this for you.”
One small outstretched hand held one dandelion that had seen better days.
No longer green–
Its golden petals were now full of white powdered seeds.
“Do you want me to blow it,” he said, with large three-year-old eyes that still see the wonder of God’s creation.
“Yes, Emmitt, blow it.”
“Watch Granny,” he said, as he puckered three-year-old lips that have never tasted hate.
Spreading smiles and love like the tiny seeds of one flower sprayed by many with poison
Love never dies.
Matter a fact, it thrives when we see through the eyes of a child.