dandelion

I met a girl whose hand was curled
By some unknown accident or disease,
She was a casino teller, and she made
My change pretty as you please
With one hand counting, and the other
Pressed against her chest.
I wanted to ask about her affliction,
Give some comfort with my heart
Admiration for her bravery,
I didn’t know where to start
And then she smiled and seemed
Quite pleased I was looking at her eyes.
I imagine her childhood was a hideous dream,
The child everyone despised.
But now she was in the adult world,
Making her own way,
And independence was more comforting
Than anything I could say.
So I gazed into her eyes and I smiled
Upon her smile,
Thanked her for my change, and like her,
I passed my little trial.
Hers was a burden to overcome,
Mine to overlook, and with a smile
And eyes that shine,
My heart and soul she took
And reshaped my vision of happiness,
What it means to succeed.
Even a dandelion is beautiful
If you don’t think of it as a weed.