Slender as paper

weightless as air

rooted in the ground,

their roots snaking in and out.

They are blades

But with no point

can still stand tall

against the most furious storms.

shades of stunning green

but bit by bit,

they wither and shrivel

Under careless footsteps.

In the vast future,

I wish for thought.

I wish for care.

I wish for life,

but grass might not be there.