Cluttered Beauty
My quest for order is assailed
When gazing at the scene.
My neighbor’s less than tidy yard,
Is wildly overgrown: obscene.
There's clutter here and clutter there.
In fact there's clutter everywhere.
Yet flowers bloom in gorgeous hues,
Not mindful that they are abused.
Scattered wide and overgrown,
Seeds tossed about when being sown.
And thick green grass somehow is trim,
Amongst the junk that lies within.
I shake my head and think: tsk, tsk,
Who’d want to look upon that mess?
Then smile and to myself admit;
I really can’t complain a bit.
This scorn I show is not for real.
It masks deep envy that I feel.
A longing for more ease of life,
An unkempt mind, devoid of strife.
Delightful colors draw my gaze,
As I look down that hill each day.
If I'm to be, to myself true;
I must admit; I’d miss the view.
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