Grass
I am that grass you love.
Green or yellow, I am.
Brown, sometimes, I am, and
On me, your animals feed.
Greener, your life I make.
To make shelters, you use me,
To prettify your parks, you shrub me, and
To produce compost and oxygen.
Your gardens’ beds, I create.
Myriads of creatures, I host.
With me, you surround yourself
Greenly attractive to look.
To make an extra buck, you need me.
As your low spot, you use me.
Today, courteously, plant and feed me.
Even if you will dispose of me,
Just like a mere green waste.
That grass you treasure, I remain.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
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