The Proud Dandelion

Didn’t it seem
Once Upon a Time
that the snow fell
on the regular.
As if parents ordered it up
for good boys and girls
acknowledging
not all gifts should cost?

I cannot recall
exactly the waking
but one happened
without white cheer.
That was the day
the onslaught
of adult knowledge
took base in my chest.

No longer bells rang
over crisp serenity.
No longer I played
and ignored cold nagging.
No longer I rose
anticipating.
No longer blanketed
from adult dread.

And now it’s too late
to burrow back under
to think that snow falling
would return the tint.
Now I feel the dollars
fail to buy feeling
and no Santa comes
for doing adult chores.

No longer rewarded
for being a human.
No longer applauded
for doing the simple.
No longer forgiven
for lapses ‘gainst others.
No longer safe
under white cover.

Now I drive through
slush gray and lumpy
that came too late
for the season.
Snow threatens my peace
and drags at my tires
so I veer and careen
away from my rut.

Instead of glistening
youthful idealism
I must find joy
inside somewhere.
I simply hope
that the simple child
built up enough
strength for us both.