The vines that grow, they all grow past me. The roses that blo | Every Day Poems

The vines that grow, they all grow past me.
The roses that bloom, they all bloom without me.
My roots, have yet found their ground.
But in this jungle, I barely count as part of the crowd.

In the mirror, I see the little feeble me.
In the mirror, I can see your beauty.
I can also see, the newest parts of me,
Tearing down the earth, going further and deeper yet.

I'm nothing news, I tell my self.
I am nothing special.
I'll grow like the rest,
In my own extended time.