A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
The innocent curiosity and absorption my little brother has
For such the simplest things
Astounds me.
He can be so preoccupied and entertained
By the little puff
Of a dandelion in its last stages of life.
He twirls it in his fingers,
Not a word to be said.
Laying in the grass,
Attention all focused on the ball of cloud in his hand,
Only wavering when he spots another along the way.
Almost as if he was holding the world in his fingers,
And nothing else mattered,
Not the things he had to do,
Or the places he needed to be.
Nothing but that little dandelion.
And when I ask him what he’s doing
He says
“What? I like them.”
Such a peaceful, simple thing.
Words Worth While 
Ah! The small joys of life mean everything.
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They are such wonderful things when you find them, and its so fun to see little kids discover them.
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You’re so right. I vicariously relive that childlike wonder through my nephew sometimes. Thanks for the poem. It’s a cool reminder to stop and smell the roses 💙
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Kids really are wonderful! And thank you for saying that and enjoying it! I really appreciate it. 💚
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Have a glorious week 💜
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You too!💛
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