You have a wee small plot
With your life at its dawn
It's just about so wide
The length not yet been drawn.

A garden you are to tend
Tilling, working it well
What will become of it
Just time and toil to tell.

Turning stumbling blocks
Into path stepping stones
Breaking up all the clods
Your body aches and groans

Compost and nutrients
Working into the soil
Hoeing, weeding, sweating
A life of work and toil.

Then you begin to plant
What should you strive to reap
What harvest is unwanted
And what you wish to keep.

Rows of hopes, rows of dreams
There a fantasy or two
Your ambitions and desires
They are planted there too.

Along the path some roses
Stop and smell on the way
Just in case someone trails
Blooms to brighten their day.

Then a small bench to sit
To watch, to think, to rest
Place to admire your work
Hoping you've done your best.

One plant should never grow
This caution you must heed
It will destroy your toil
A foul obnoxious weed.

Whether planted by you
Or someone passing by
If left there to take root
You'll sit alone and cry.

So take my advice friends
Do not let it will out
Tis fair warning I give
Beware the Seeds of Doubt.