Dandelion weave, through nettles green.
It may look untidy, to those who cannot see.
That the thistles, crabgrass, and bindweed hide,
Fragile daisies, that otherwise wouldn’t survive.
Foxgloves bloom, hidden from sight,
So that kind thoughts are not taken in spite.
People can snip and shear any colour they see,
So that the garden of dreams is bare and empty.
Though few would dare to cut the st...