A "Weeds in the Garden" poem

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On Being a Weed

 

I am but a little weed in my soul

Being adopted, domesticated,

potted.  Now 'weeded' and cultivated

 

They call me a flower. Little daisy

Do wash your pretty face, ears, and behind

Don't play with naughty boys, act a lady

 

Go to Sunday school with your grandmother

Learn the memory verses, then tell grandpa

Be nice at school, learn perfect penmanship

 

Grow up to be ladylike, what they want

I'll follow their rules, daisy I'm not.  But  

I'll act my own weed-at-heart when I'm grown   

_ _ _ _

 

Photo and Poem Copyright © 2012 and 2016 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

2012 Photo was a part of this Jim's Little Blog post:

.http://jimmiehov.blogspot.com/2012/09/two-shoes-tuesday-4-secret-midweek-blues.html 
It truly is a wild flower, a weed.  It grew, must have been from a seed,
 in this pot. I did not pot it.  I leave it alone and it comes up every year,
blooming about two or three times each.

 

I'm linked with Rommy at The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads,

Weeds in the Garden (link).  She wants us to have a 'Weed' poem.

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