The little weed was struggling,
To be the very first.
He broke the crust and reached,
The sun then quenched his thirst.
He knew in time that others,
Would join him on his quest.
To greet the spring with honour ,
Then his goal was blessed.
He also knew that life,
Was shortened for his kind.
All the joy that he could bring,
The humans would decline.
But for a moment he was here,
The sun had touched his heart.
All the bliss he had inside,
At last he could impart.
This poem was inspired by Lucy and Twiggy over at johnwhowell.com