In the garden
There is a small bush
Growing next to a taller weed.
The bush yearns for sunlight
But the weed is a bully and will not
Let enough light get through.
A refreshing wind wafts
Through the garden yet once again
The bully weed steals most.
The bush spends days
Yearning for the weed to leave
Yearning for the wind and water.
Can a bush dream?
Can a bush lust and long for what is missed?
Surely in some measure.
So then why not
The same for the weed as well?
And well for the weed.