Mother gave me a patch of garden.
I ploughed it with a trowel
and seeded it with
dahlias,
geraniums,
marigolds,
and chrysanthemums.
I watered it everyday
and watched with delight
as they began to sprout.
Then one day I saw a new plant,
with tiny bright green leaves.
Mother didn't know what it was.
Se called it a weed.
She told me to remove it.
I didn't. I thought it was pretty.
Prettier still, when it had
tiny, yellow flowers.
And then there were other plants -
short ones,
tall ones,
prickly ones,
with white,
yellow,
even red flowers.
One flower had petals
that were violet outside
and yellow inside.
Mother called them all weeds.
The geraniums
and dahlias
and chrysanthemums
didn't seem to grow well.
They were short
and had small flowers,
not like mother's patch
which had big, pretty ones.
Mother said it was because
I had let weeds grow.
But I had lots of little
flowers - like little me.
Mother said I had grown
a weed garden.
So she took it away.
But it was a nice garden
while it lasted.
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