Twas just a puff of white stuff upon a slender stem, a bunch of little seeds waiting for a gust of wind, to launch them into freedom to become small yellow flowers. How could this little wild thing command the human's hours? It doesn't have a fragrance or aroma sweet and rare. Its flower is plain and yellow, no rose beyond compare. It's hunted down and cast aside by lawnmen far and wide. It's the stuff of children's pranks when its little stem they hide. But one day quite by accident it grew in status high. It was plucked and held up closely to be seen by human eye. It's form was sketched, its flower sewn upon a cloth of green. No finer art from a stitcher's hand could anywhere be seen. It's proudest moment had just dawned, but fame is brief and fleeting. Cause in the end, twas just a joke, that's barely worth repeating. So when you pluck the weeds from your lawn of emerald green, Remember that one April day, this little flower was queen.
This dandelion was interpreted in counted cross stitch on
18 count evenweave fabric. The poem and stitched piece were
completed for a close friend. The design is 1/4 of a circular
work done by Sue Lentz.
Scissor Fobs