Like a roadside weed

Like a roadside weed...
There´s toad stools on the edge of the pine forest,
There´s thistles on the edge of the pasture.
Sometimes it´s useless looking for a tree amongst the tallest,
When an abundant bush can be just the cure.
Where cars pass by, and wanderers try,
Where tired hitchhikers tramp, and those of no patience camp.
Where i walk like a roadside weed.
There´s stunning palms at the foot of these beaches.
On the river banks are willows toward the water ever reaching.
And for those that grow anywhere and neither follow nor lead,
Are the species that grow like a roadside weed.