The Flower, The Tower, The Power Poem by Helen C Capan

A weed, the dandelion, it grew
Becoming your object of awe.
So fast it sprang up,
headed,
and crowned.
That morning you plucked the flower.

The blocks, a discount store toy, they grew
Becoming your object of awe.
Too soon they lined up,
stacking
themselves.
By noon you’d built the tower.

The muscles, mere sinews on bone, they grew
Becoming your object of awe.
Fleet were the hours
training
for strength.
Today you drive the power.

The people, those gathered around, they grow
Becoming your object of awe.
Slow yourself down;
See the
time fly.
Tomorrow you’ll be the flower.