Envy
I envy the grass so sweet
It sits with roots planted,
never uprooted by the breeze
blowing gingerly by its head.
I envy the bee so small,
buzzing close to the sweetest smell
of nectar in springtime.
Always working, never full.
I envy the wind so free.
Whipping carelessly through the hillside
higher and higher still
up to the sun.... and yet,
Envy as I may, I still love me,
the wide-eyed girl, staring at the world
understanding little bits of what it means
to simply...be.
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