Burned With The Weeds Poem by VINCENT OYET
Burned With The Weeds
In fields where blossoms dance with weeds untamed,
The fairest flowers rarely remain.
For when the farmer comes with blade and hoe,
He digs the thorns and burns the trash away
And all that stood too close is lost in flame.
There, no more.
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Efforts to fix a life, society, relationship often destroy the good mixed in with the bad. The fairest flowers suffer most because they're in the same space as the weeds.
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7/8/2026 8:24:05 PM # 1.0.0
