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