A Perfect Metaphor

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Nobody plants a dandelion
Nobody puts them in straight, uniform lines,
Or picks one and puts it in a vase.
They arrive unannounced,
Unasked for, and humble,
As they rise from the dirt.
They look at the sun,
And feel its warmth,
So they become a sun in the earth.
Then they look at the clouds,
And mimic the mighty ghosts,
As they spread their seeds into the air.
And nobody cares.
Nobody asked for them to grow,
But in the end everyone's glad that they're there.

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