Monday, October 03, 2011

Difficult Dirt

Once there was a friendship.
Exotic and dark, it sprouted in difficult dirt. Tended with anticipation,
its potential was thrilling. It flourished, intertwining us two.

Ensnaring us in its tendrils, it encircled us through life and death,
the occasional blooms spectacular.

But time rot perished it,
Apathy pruned abusively and those rare blossoms failed.

Obligatory revivals were attempted, forced and bitter,
Like CPR on a dead man.
Leaving us at a distance to stare at its remains.

Left to a dusty corner pot it hangs, dry and brittle,
Like a macrame-clad maiden hair. Present, but a memory.

Once I had a friendship.
It sprouted in difficult dirt
But it flourished and intertwined us two.






4 comments:

ally said...

Hmmm...potplants and friendships...I have a few like this
You have a lovely way with words

Fer said...

Lovely. Have you thought about publishing short stories?

Loz and Dinny said...

Bad macacrame has a way of putting the mocha on such things ...

Ames and Tash said...

You have a beautiful writer within...