© 2007 Steve Campsall
Jealousy was growing in my flower bed,
I made a mental note to pull it out,
Before it spread.
But the days were wet
And its roots had set.
Up my path, crept the weed,
And as it grew, it gathered speed,
Under the lawn and over the steps
And up the window frame it leapt.
From my rose, it blocked the light,
Denying me my heart's delight.
At last I got my weeding done,
But alas too late, my rose was gone.
