A Worms Lot

Just an every day man,

Caught in a coffee can.

Squirming to find a way out;

Unable due to his doubt.

Feeling slimy and stuck,

Can he escape in his truck?

There are so many fish waiting,

Biting without hesitating.

Oh, poor working man, caught,

Trapped in a worms lot!

Blind Rose

The weed spewed his hate.

“Little bud grown from dirt,

All who touch you will scar.

You glorified weed.”

Obviously a bully,

To be uprooted,

The Gardner took action.

But, the weeds’ voice stayed.

Echoing it’s criticism ,

To the young rose bud.

Such an exquisite rose,

All she could see was a weed.

Blind to her own beauty,

This rose saw thorns and dirt.