When I peer closely, I can see you there

Your tiny head pokes out above the ground

Your fight against the world is newly found,

As men will question, “How much will you bear?”

Your coiled shoots will sprout before my eyes

And buds appear between each unfurled leaf

How ripe and bright, until the set of grief

For withered stems, and fruit that falls and dies.

Now, who on earth can measure your great worth?

Thy fruitful purpose coming to a close

Some men might say you live for them- not so.

No, you, like us, are more than days from birth

To death. But though from fruit we often stray,

You stay to grow, and love each sunny day.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 



A sonnet for my garden

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