Humble little weed
in God´s great & floral garden,
Can you forgive man
& errant gardener ever pardon?
For chopping, hewing,
mowing & removing every weed,
Can they not hear you,
when in silence you gently plead?
To be just left alone
to grow, like the lilac, herb & rose,
But you do not grace
sweet posy, nor titillate the nose,
Without the petal gown
in rich velvet & coloured hues,
No perfumes & scents,
squeezed from reds & cyan blues,
Just a mere little
weed, wild child of God´s sweetened soil,
Destruction of your
soul, by the gardener, daily at his toil,
You´re just a little
flower, no man deems nor dares to tame,
You are never placed
in posies, nor given ever a pretty name,
But by the hand of
God, in his fields of painted garden glory,
Your presence upon
this earth, tells every man another story.
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