To me it’s just a noxious weed
That clutters up my shore.
To them it’s a delicious meal,
And maybe so much more.
Sometimes the little things, to us,
Are more than they may seem.
To someone who has so much less,
Our “little” is their dream.
So don’t belittle little gifts,
They’re bigger than you know.
And who can tell what mighty things
A little gift might grow.
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