deepundergroundpoetry.com

Weed

Not beautiful but alive.
Clawing through mud and dark.
Thunder marking time,
stars denoting placement.
Awaiting morning's light
and respite from this dankness.
Perhaps left unmolested
a chance to flourish.
Even weeds may blossom.




 


Written by dichotomy
Published | Edited 16th Dec 2020
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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