I planted the seeds in the darkest of dirt,

Before the violets and wooden heap.

That day my plant did not grow.

I planted the seeds too deep.

And the Purple Violets that stood once so tall,

Their petals wiltered,

As the leaves from the sycamore trees began to fall.


What Grew in front of that heap were now pretty blues.

Bright, silky petals, the color of the sky.

Although these flowers won the most glorious stares,

My marigolds never received views.

But when the winter came with pinching winds,

The flowers were swept away agin


The once beautiful, dark dirt,

Dried up to sand.

All the seeds were gone

From ou my hand.

Nothing will grow here.

Not at all.

Nothing will grow here.

There go my marigold seeds,

Crumble, Crumble.

Here come brown weeds.

Grow! Grow! Grow!

The leaves won’t grow.

The violets won’t Grow.

My marigolds won’t grow.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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