Seedlings
We all start out like seedlings
Just emerging from the earth,
Alike in that we’re each of us
A product of a birth.
Depending on our genus,
We may grow up tall and straight
Or be scraggly or bristly,
Rooted down by luck or fate.
We’ll be nurtured and be nourished
Or be totally ignored,
Grow in gardens gently tended
Or be trampled and abhorred.
Some of us will sport some flowers
To embellish and adorn,
While for others there’s deception
Waiting in a hidden thorn.
Though there’s sun and rain and shelter,
Nature doesn’t really care
If each seedling has an equal shot,
For life just isn’t fair.
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