In the forgotten corners where shadows play,
Weeds whisper secrets of the passing day.
Lush and humble, they quietly grow,
In the silent symphony of nature’s flow.

Beneath the proud trees that pierce the sky,
Weeds find their place, though they often lie,
Unseen, unloved, yet they persist,
In the tapestry of life, they quietly exist.

Their roots dig deep in the earth’s embrace,
Seeking sunlight’s gentle grace.
With every breeze, they dance and sway,
Painting the world in a subtle gray.

Though called unwanted, they hold a charm,
A testament to nature’s enduring arm.
In every crack and every seam,
Weeds remind us of life’s quiet dream.