You plant me as a seed.
Forget to water my roots
or care for me as I begin to sprout.
Forget where you have planted me and begin
to walk all over the soil that I am to feed on.
Allowing the weeds to tangle and wrap
around me, until I can barely breathe.
Mowing me down when I am standing
a little too tall, a little too proud.
Keeping me far from the sun
and never shielding me from the rain.
Waiting to see if I will still miraculously manage
to blossom and rise from the dirt.
If my petals will grow bright-colored and delicate
so that you may pluck them one by one.
Hoping to still wrap me up ‘nice and pretty’
in a pink bow and fancy string.
So proud of all my hard work
which you have now claimed as your own.
Feeling it only just, to now reap what you sowed.
First published in Truth Be Told. Reproduced with permission of the author.