“Lowly Humble Grass”

by J. W

Bygone is my age,

Old man I am.

Not a tree with a strong trunk,

proud of it’s strength.

Not a flower in full blossom

Showing off today’s beauty,

Mindless of tomorrow’s fading.

But a lowly, lowly humble grass, I am.

Insult, blame, smearing, and trampling,

I take, as my nourishment,

Ever-greener I become.

Bathed by the morning dew,

I will be fresh and clean,

Showing a big smile on my face.

Worshipping the rising sun,

Is my daily ritual.

The beautiful scenery of trees, flowers and grass of the mountainside.

Contains a tiny bit of me.