It’s spring time and
the flowers have come up
and next to them
so have the weeds.
My daughter, Eliza,
cannot tell the difference
and becomes overjoyed at the sight of both.
We should all be more like this.
But no, we are so busy looking for ways to kill the weeds
we end up destroying the flowers.
My parents were not gardeners-
but they did this too.
They spent so much time on my broken brother
they overlooked my sisters and me
as we bloomed next to him.
I don’t want to be like this.
I want to have an unkempt garden
like my daughter does-
all that blooms there.