Some people talk to their plants
They're always the ones that thrive
That need to be planted in larger planters
Leaves and blooms that stretch
and reach toward the sun
Vines overgrown
With life and silky green
Each cell unique and standing
Creating oxygen and life
Insects and butterflies
Tap at the branches
To soak in the awesome nectar
Of mother earth's trees of life
And then there are plants neglected
Confined to a pot in the corner
Of a room with walls and no doors
Greenery in captivity
Never to reach its fullest bloom
It's purplest flowers
The best bees
A sweetness not to be tasted
Wilting and brown
Weighted toward the floor
Craving the soil
It misses
Wishing to return to the
Ground it was born in
Neglected and void of fruit
That it knew it could produce
You wanted a house plant
Perhaps only for decoration
To show your ability to pluck it
From the ground where it came
You committed to take care of it
You desired its fruitful rewards
You promised to feed it and nurture it
You vowed to keep it safe
I could have filled you with oxygen
I could have bloomed bright
I could have overfilled my planter
I could have cracked glass with my passionate vines
You could have tasted my sweetness
And let my aroma engulf you
But no.
There I sat.
A plant that could not flower.
I am not a house plant.
* you and your neglect.