mayawrites

She wanders through the brambles,

One step after the other,

Sprout and leaf rambles,

About nosey pedestrians and the weather.

The banyan knits a stop sign,

The green drifting into red,

Trodden dandelions paying traffic fines,

As the leaves spores moisten at the newly wed.

Slips through the toll, a dicey paradice,

With weeds sprouting to grab a slice,

Only a few of her kind survive the boxing ring,

Before her berries on a whim they sing.

Unable to resist, consumed by self-reproach,

But what to do, it is her obligation.

The berries refined gown ripped and torn,

For she is a parasite, a pest, a roach.