There once was a little dandelion who was in love with a rose. He loved her from the very first day he saw her. To him, she was the most beautiful flower in the garden.
He still remembers the day the rose opened her petals for and bloomed for the first time. It was breathtaking.
But the little dandelion knew it was not meant to be. He was a weed. He was made to kill flowers, whether he wanted to or not. The rose could never love him.
Little did he know, the rose was in love with him. She caught him staring once and began to wonder about him. He was the shortest of the dandelions, but she liked that about him.
For a long time, she watched as all of his taller friends around him were picked by little children and given to their mothers. She pitied him and she felt his pain.
As a flower, it was her dream to be picked by a human. A flower is not considered truly beautiful until they are picked, because it is then that someone acknowledges their beauty and admires it enough to want to keep it in their home. But, like the little dandelion, the rose had not seen that day yet.
She had learned to be okay with that, though. She reminded herself that every day she wasn’t picked was another day spent in the garden near the one she loved.
Both the dandelion and the rose were afraid to speak to each other because they knew they didn’t belong together. So they spent their days sneaking glances whenever they could.
“You’ve got to tell her someday,” said the blade of grass to the dandelion.
“Tell who what?” asked the dandelion.
“Tell the rose you love her.”
“I can’t. It’s not meant to be. She could never love me. I’m a weed.”
“She does love you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re turned away.”
The dandelion looked at the rose and their eyes met. In that moment, the dandelion knew he must tell her how he feels, whether she felt the same or not. She was too beautiful to be in the garden much longer, so now was the time. But before he could say a word, a hand reached down and plucked her from the earth. For a split second, as the hand slowly lifted her, pure joy washed over her face, but her smile was quickly replaced with a frown as she looked down at the dandelion.
The dandelion couldn’t believe it. This was the last time he would ever see her and he never told her he loved her, but he knew she loved him by the way she looked at him as she was carried away. He could only hope she knew how he felt…
They say a dead dandelion has the power to grant one wish. Ever since the day his rose was picked, the little dandelion couldn’t wait to grant a wish.
Just when he was ready to give up on the dream, just as he had given up on expressing his love, a beautiful, young girl bent down and picked the dead dandelion.
“Hmm… I get one wish,” she said to herself.
She thought long and hard before holding the dandelion up to her mouth.
“I wish,” she whispered. “that I would have the guts to tell him I love him.”
She blew gently and the dandelion was carried away by the breeze. He was glad to grant her wish so she could have a chance at something he never got…