Journey To Appenzell Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A Dandelion stood alone
near iron railway tracks,
he leaned against a granite stone
to rest, and to relax.

He stood up straight for every train
and watched the many faces,
who travelled, seemingly in vain
to mystic foreign places.

He never knew that there was life
beyond the smoke and dirt,
one day a gentleman with knife
bent down and cut. It hurt.

The man now rode to Appenzell
and back each afternoon.
He wore the plant on his lapel
but tired of it soon.

Five journeys Dandelion made,
then, on a Sunday morn,
just as his shine began to fade
he felt that he was torn

and thrown without a single tone
onto the pitch-black tracks.
He landed near the granite stone
and leaned back to relax.