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Love Forgets the Envy of Weeds
Untamed, wild they rise
flowers don't beg for kindness—
roots break through the stone
their petals flare, loud colors
lure bees to their greedy feast
weeds at heart they sprawl
never pleading for a hand—
only to be seen
their fragrance a ruthless lure
their beauty a cunning snare
perhaps I was born
to beg for love that I missed—
waiting in the aisles
clamouring for attention
while flowers thrive without pleas
I reach out for care,
while the ivy climbs the wall
not asking for help—
I reach out with tendril claws
but my quest is not fulfilled
where are my flowers—
gone to be weeds every one
petals fall like ash—
only weeds endure the light
feeding on what love forgets
Copyright ©
John Anderson
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