Weeds grow happily unaware that they are lowly, While posh flowers in their ma**es Bow their heads appearing holy. My eyes just see beauty They never seem to care, If the beauty comes from weed or flower The pleasure is still there. The flowers in the wild somehow don`t have the same appeal As those we have to care for To place upon our window sill. Now, I`m guessing but I feel A dozen bu*tercups in a bunch Won`t make the same Impact as roses, Or is that just my hunch? .