Seedlings

We all start out like seedlings

Just emerging from the earth,

Alike in that we’re each of us

A product of a birth.

 

Depending on our genus,

We may grow up tall and straight

Or be scraggly or bristly,

Rooted down by luck or fate.

 

We’ll be nurtured and be nourished

Or be totally ignored,

Grow in gardens gently tended

Or be trampled and abhorred.

 

Some of us will sport some flowers

To embellish and adorn,

While for others there’s deception

Waiting in a hidden thorn.

 

Though there’s sun and rain and shelter,

Nature doesn’t really care

If each seedling has an equal shot,

For life just isn’t fair.