Sometimes.
Here on this grass.
It’s awful.
It’s boring.
And this grass is just not good enough.
For someone like me.
I deserve more.
The Grass.
You see; I hear there is better grass.
Over there.
And when I flick my eyes over there.
I can actually see what appears to be much, much greener grass.
Much juicier grass.
Much more interesting and inviting grass than this boring, awful grass I’m standing on today.
Important.
But then I remember something important.
I remember where my greenest grass actually is.
I remember where my greenest grass always was.
And most importantly I remember that the greenest grass doesn’t just grow by itself.
Over here.
Over there.
Or anywhere.
With me just stood.
Hands in pockets.
Moaning.
Thinking that ‘The Greenest Grass’ is something that I am somehow entitled to.
The Greenest Grass.
The Greenest Grass.
In actual fact.
Is the grass I choose to water.
