With a voice like steady moving water
You never falter
Your eyes are the fruit
Of steady growing roots
Full of energy and luster
You catch rain and turn it to life
Hold the sun in leathery leaves
You are what grows in a well tended garden
A celebration
Of what beauty nature can bring

My voice is small
Like a trickle from a tap
My eyes tired and searching
My roots are thin, brown , tendrils
My stem is weak and wilting
My leaves are chapped and few
Full of parasites and poisons
I am what grows in wastelands
      In rubble lots
             And broken flower pots
I am something that should not be
A testament to nature's infallibility