Weed to Flower

Carried in my mother’s womb

9 months of the comfortableness of a gardener singing and caressing me.

Born on a winter’s day, the gardeners celebrate the joyous evening

Happiness and tears of joy mixed with the cold winter’s night.

Growing into a tiny weed, sprouting into the ground

The gardeners labor every day; giving water and sunlight

Nourishment to sprout into greatness and flourish into the immenseness of life

As the blooming spring endears the light and leaves.

Gardeners are from the foreigners; the tiny weed from the promised lands

Day and night the gardeners move to provide life of riches

Spoiling, immensely loving this now rotten tomato

Spewing the ravishing attitude of the stubborn weed.

Fighting for more, and not comprehending the labor

The weed relinquishes its actions; for the gardeners are growing weaker.

Time start to show in the gardeners faces, the wisdom in their eyes.

Beautiful their faces, but eerie their backs, hands, and feet.

The sprouting weed sheds a tear

It is only a matter of time; for the gardeners will one day not be

Therefore the weed blooms for it is time she took charge

Become the flower she needs to be for the gardener.

The flower now thanks the gardeners for the water, the sunlight and nourishment.

Now the flower waters the gardeners and gives off sunlight.

Instead of picking her, they watered her every day.

She now does the same for the aging gardeners.