
Driving down the road,
Walking down the street,
I see you standing there,
Sticking out
Among the grass, concrete
And other weeds,
At least that's what they call you
Just a weed, unnamed,
And in the way
Because you don't belong in the garden,
Or in a vase on someone's table
Ripped from your home as a token,
Or trophy.
You stand tall under the sun
No matter what blade cuts you,
You always grow back.
Feral, stubborn,
I pass you by with admiration,
And not without a little empathy.
And I say stand tall,
From one weed to another
About the Creator
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