by Helen Graebner

A handful of gold
I lovingly hold.
Green and gold, shining bright
With the sun's own pure light.

Bridgett, aged three,
And Brian, who's four,
Brought them to me
At the kitchen door.
"Here," they said,
"We found them today."
Put them in my hand
And went back to play.

Now my heart that was sad
Has started to sing.
They thought they brought dandelions,
What they gave me was -- Spring!

by Diane Graebner

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