In dream,
We wandered ‘mid pasture, my step
Passing ‘twixt emerald blades.
I paused - there slept
A lone dandelion;
Small, timid, fragile.
“Father,
What’s this?” I asked, inept.
He turned, lips widening.
“Through this, there is power in the Lord.”
I trembled in place;
I fumbled, and wept.
Well done
Nice poem!