A bloom grew in a patch of weeds
Its fragrance sweet and lovely
Admired for persistent growth
In a plain, homely location
For years this plant had spread its joy
Over thistle and poison ivy vines
For years this flower gave its beauty
To weeds and thorny bramble
Then one day whispers on the wind
Over heard by the blossom ‘mong the weeds
A whisper that this bright, fair bud
Was out of place and must be plucked
The flower heard and bowed its head
And sadness filled the weed patch
With but a sigh this lonely sprout
Gave up its lifelong struggle
Never again to grace this weedy place
Never again to spread its fragrance sweet
Both weeds and flowers mourn its passing
And all the green-world weeps
2007-09-10
09:51:26
·
8 answers
·
asked by
Anonymous
in
Family & Relationships
➔ Singles & Dating