While I often sit

Somber and melancholic

Depressed about the lack of rain

And the hurt of many animals

She prefers to spend

Time with my grandmother,

Who cannot bend

Who needs help to put on her own shoes

While I allow life

To simply pass me by

She remembers that

It is precious

And important to find joy

While little things,

To me are nothing

When to her,

They're all that matter

I want to be like her

I think of how we differ

I do not have tolerance

I expect things to work,

Feeling upset when they don't

While she,

Religiously waters her flowers

Even when she knows

They have never grown