those years,
the planting seeds
for more
more land
the growth,
died right on out of me

the years,
you said you’d give
delicate with your waters
tender with your shears
loving with your patience
caring in your support
so much pruning
i needed more sun

this year,
never enough water
raw with thirst
the flowers will never bloom
drying roots
decaying pot
you rot the best seasons out of me

the pot you tried to grow me in
home to old earth
wild flowers grown
looks like weeds
not enough beauty for you to see

the rains will pour
dampening roots
rebirthing seeds
strengthening stems
pruning leaves
old earth like new

the pot you left me in
you thought were weeds
will be no more
growth out of season
flowers will bloom
overflowing your empty pots

until my end,
i will grow in the land
dropping seeds
among weeds
to grow from another pot

*image courtesy of marta. creative commons.
song courtesy of terrence trent d’arby, seasons