Weeds?


A shower comes to springs end.
A new dawn with which to tend,
Each new day having brought a seed,
Whether it a flower or it a weed.
Though who’s to say which one is?
The beholder’s as shallow as it is,
Every daughter and son: a judge unto themselves.
Every court without a jury; mercilessly and unjustly delves
Into the case of assigning value.
Into the ends that suit themselves.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s