flower sonnet
The weeds were all around and yet she grew
She stretched her gorgeous petals in the air
I stopped and smelled her fragrance, but I knew
The weeds would block the sun and bring despair
Her roots are strong and deep; the weeds’ are not
Her colors are all bright, the weeds are dark
She should have grown within a flower plot
Or in a place protected, like a park
It rains and she is nourished through her root
With rain the weeds are easy to extract
The seeds she dropped have sprouted; they are cute
In time the weeds will disappear, in fact:
The joy her fragrant beauty brings her field
will grow her sprouts; the weeds will have to yield.

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