When I was little <br />three or four <br />I liked to blow the heads <br />off dandelions grown white <br />And watch their little parachutes <br />float gently down. <br />But when a puff of wind <br />Would catch them up <br />And swirl them high above <br />I'd run along to watch them fly <br />for they were free <br />so much like me.<br /><br />David Freed<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dandelions-3/
