Not Plantasia

Don’t watch me dancing

Unless you can first make me wet.

Water me

Please.

You’ve watched my leaves turn yellow from a photogenic green,

My leaves burn brown from that feverish yellow,

And the burnt brown bits crack like glass at the slightest touch—

Every stem fallen, swept away from sight

Stripped of my life, to only grow back stronger—

But time after time you cut and you pull,

Trimmed and maintained to the daintiest of twigs,

With all that is left is a little uncertain root.

Our summer scents will return,

Traveling through the hot wind,

With my pleasant chill that will restore you,

And be infused into your ice cold glass of lemon water.

The scorching afternoon heat makes me feel great;

All that I can ever want is to reach for the sun for all of its shine,

But if the first order of business is not taken care of,

Then I’ll be weeping like a willow for all the wrong reasons.