Weeds

Weeds
Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry


I couldn't help but notice that day

As I walk along my way

The weeds that grew

Although not many just a few

They broke through the hard ground here and there

And I thought how hard it must have been the burden they must bare

Then I looked along the hedge how the weeds had been pruned out

And beautiful flowers grew all about

They grew tall, beautiful and strong

It was apperent they had been nurtured and protected all along

Then my thoughts went back to the lonly and withering weed

And I thought again how desolute they must feel

As each time their caught among the flowers them we kill

We pull them up or cut them down

Looking at them with disgust as we wear a frown

Forcing them to grow lonly till they wither and die in the sun

Although their life barely begun

As the days past by I thought on this many a time

Till I came to a decision as the wind through the trees did chime

I would grow a garden of weeds but were would I find the seeds

No one sells seeds no not for weeds

So I grew some flowers I knew the weeds would come

And instead of pulling them out it was the flowers turn

I began to nurture the weeds and watched them grow

And what a sight to me they did show

Some grew tall and thick with seed

Others multiplied quickly as if they had been freed

Some had beautiful blooms of delicate yellow

So beautiful they would capture the attention of the most manly fellow

As I looked closer I almost did cry

I saw how they feed the small animals and birds of the sky

While I stood in awe my mind began to ponder

How many weeds in life have we cut down or pulled out I wonder

Instead of helping to nurture them to their full potential

Treating them in a way so differential