One day a dandelion and a rose lay together upon the florist table. The rose asked the dandelion, "Why are you here?" Before the dandelion could answer, the rose continued, " I grew in the most elegant garden, and had the very best of care. Aristocrats admired me, and debutantes delighted in my sweet fragrance. I was in such company as Poe and Frost and many other poets of renown. My beauty is exquisite! Now, tell me, lowly dandelion. Have your say!"
The dandelion thought for a moment. Than he said, "I, too, saw the aristocrats as they trod past me, on the way to your garden. From a distance, I saw the debutantes enticed as they enjoyed your lovely fragrance. I also heard words of poetry, but alas, the authors were of no renown! It was only that of children as they recited nursery rhymes, and struggled with their own metaphors. This was my enjoyment. Thus was the state of this lowly dandelion."
Then the florist came and took the rose. It joined other roses and made a beautiful bouquet. The bride was very happy, and after the wedding, she dried the rose and put it in a showcase in her mansion. Everyone that came to visit could see the rose and recall all its beauty.
In the meantime, a fair young maiden that worked hard in the florist shop, had just became engaged. She had little money, but was happy just the same.
She saw the dandelion, and asked if she could have it.The owner of the shop allowed her possession. So, the maiden took the dandelion, and picked some other wildflowers to go with it. Intertwining all the flowers, she made a headband to hold her silky blond hair, on her wedding day.
After her marriage, she took the dandelion and pressed it between the pages of a book. She closed the book and put it away.
Through the years, at times, she'd return to that book. She'd read all the lines of love proclaimed, until she came to where the dandelion rested. Than she gently lifted it so as to read the words on which it lay.
Wedding vows her husband wrote always brought her joy. She remembered vividly, that day they were written. It was the day two flowers lay together upon the same work table, back at the florist shop.
That day was the day, the dandelion and rose, though both were different, brought pleasure in their own special way.
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