Where do weeds come from?
They were there when I got here, so maybe they have existed since the beginning of time.

I pull them and toss them, yet they return, uninvited.

I spray stuff on them to ward them away, yet they spring up anew, oblivious to my efforts to kill them.

Grass dies around them, yet they thrive, undeterred, unafraid.

Clawing through dirt and mulch, they stand proudly, straight and tall, right where they don't belong.

Weeds, where do they come from?

Why can't they go back there?

C.T.