Grass

grass

Grass makes me think of humility.
Trodden underfoot
Eaten by sheep
What respect is it paid?
Grass speaks to me of simplicity
No showy flowers
Of red or blue
No cries for attention.
Yes, grass speaks of humility
It is what it is
Doesn’t try to be more
How can we learn from it?

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About Rosalie Squires

'Who am I?' is a question whose answer keeps evolving, that can be answered in many, many ways; that has no known answer at all. But there are some clues to be found: stocksharpsquires.wordpress.
This entry was posted in Poems, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Grass

  1. charity9715 says:

    Ive been reading your work you are a very talented writer. 🙂

  2. charity9715 says:

    You’re welcome. 🙂

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