You can't beat weeds and wild flowers.
A Thistle's beauty's all its own
Never picky bout where they're grown.
sprinkle, feed? just leave them be
They just show up needlessly
Mountain meadows never sown
Rival any garden grown
Rocks, storms? they will display
Can't knock em down, their beauty stays
My spoiled plants with endless needs
I wish we all could be like weeds.
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