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.