Magic dandelion

I have a dandelion closer than all the flowers. For, firstly, that is quite similar to the sun. As if the sun was clearly reflected In the countless fragments of mirrored Scattered on the gentle grass (As soon as the sun hides behind the forest, If only one dandelion Open and blooming - never!).

But this is a word. Not at all for it. I love a modest little flower For that I love him, that always clings to people, That it grows at the doorstep In an old mound, in a yasper And the very first reaches for the little hands Joyfully laughing child First saw a flower. I tore the sun with my bare hands.