by Kathy Warnes
Dandelions dancing in the spring breeze,
Yellow faces bob and say, “Pick me please!”
Stems stain my fingers; I pick anyway ,
Enough to give mother a fat bouquet.
Dandelions dancing in the green grass,
Bow hello to everyone walking past,
Dandelions tickle under my nose,
Will they leave butter prints do you suppose?
In late spring dandelions go to seed,
One big wind is all dandelions need,
To scatter their seeds so that more will grow,
Spread cheerful dandelions, Blow! Blow! Blow!