A Misfit's Peculiar Treasure
A misfit, it's said, although kindly meant,
Our talent, our ways or our face,
The efforts extended meeting dissent,
A weed's just a plant out of place.
Although winsome, fragrant, well grown,
Its purpose is not welcome there.
With this disfavor, one may be known,
Yet, filling a deep need somewhere.
Take heart, although our meter be rare,
There's a place suited just for that beat.
Our place may be revealed unaware,
By situation or people we meet.
Remember, herbs don't fit in a lawn,
And grass in our vegetables banned,
From the herb helpful remedies drawn,
So, our unique gifts may be grand.
Finding our cadence, where we do well,
Our passing finds not a glitch,
A different account our stories tell;
when we have discovered our niche.
©09/05/2011 Carol Morfitt