As weeds were being planted,
Grew in a desertified area,
No flow of water on it's roots,
But still the weeds grew.

Like termites run up the mountain,
And free-kicking to both corners,
Exaggerating words as they evaporate,
No fear to any of human blame.

While the falling of snow began,
Each frost diverged to it's corners,
Fearing the shame of the land,
As each arrived in timely.

Famine and hunger covered the land,
No joy to weeds and termites,
As the situation went worse,
But lastly, land became reclaimed.


© Mr.Legacy