Little Weed

   
hello little weed in my garden grown  
toiling on nothing really  
insistent on the affection of the sun  
with you brute leaves blotting it out for the rest of us  
   
your poison ivy climbing is tiring  
shrinking into the shadows  
yes I see you protruding  
pollinated by every busy bee  
well my little scrub it is your nature  
   
popping up where you ought not  
trying to choke the daisies  
who in innocence opens for the sunllight  
taking no notice of your deviant scaling  
   
I pray the son to wilt you  
perhaps some poison you will injest  
the yard man is sure to spray you  
because a tare or two is acceptable  
but you my dear are trying to take over  
   
there are subtle orchids and roses  
petals who have never been bruised by a human  
the garden will groan, when the gardner plucks the fullest flower  
   
to keep as his glory