“Lowly Humble Grass”

By J. W.

^.^~~☆~^.^~~☆~^.^~~☆★★ ~^.^~~☆ ☆~^.^

Bygone is my golden 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 will become.

Bathed by the morning dew,

I will be fresh and clean,

Showing a big smile on my face.

Worshipping the rise sun,

Is my daily ritual.

The beautiful scenery of trees, flowers and grass

of the mountainside contains

a tiny bit of me.