” The ignorance in my garden”
Plucked from the garden, tagged as unwanted,
spewn on the ground and caused to be daunted.
“What did it do wrong?”, growing if designated a crime,
as a wolf amidst a herd of sheep, anything but sublime.
Out of place, out of shape, out of its clear space,
so the weed weeps for its regard as a disgrace.
The gardener, however unaware of his plight,
expels the Sheep’s Sorrel from his clear sight.
“What a delight!”, a garden filled with roses and kind,
but flawed of a plant which is safe for his heart’s bind.
The Sorrel would find his home elsewhere,
buckled up in a bottle of health and welfare.