The weed,
Proud in its glossy teardrop leaves,
Bends and returns to center
In wind and storm.
The single stem stands
Until
On the path
Broken
It can at least feebly say,
“He came this way!
He came this way.”
The weed,
Proud in its glossy teardrop leaves,
Bends and returns to center
In wind and storm.
The single stem stands
Until
On the path
Broken
It can at least feebly say,
“He came this way!
He came this way.”
