There are two poems here - if you don't want to read the longer one, the short-short one is at the bottom! ^-^

The first, as silly as it may seem, was based off of a plant I bought about a year and a half ago (or was it 2 1/2 years ago?) one late summer/early fall day. It was chilly out, and the plant was in the clearance section, the thickest stems cut off as if they'd grown other plants from them or something. It has a tendency to cling its soil around its roots, and it'd unbalanced itself so much that it fell over every time I tried to right itself on the shelf. Of course, it's now grown like mad and had to get a pot at least 2-3 times the size of the one I originally bought for it.... and I still don't know what type of plant it is.

THE LAST OFFER OF SUMMER

One dollar for the plant, left over
From summer, overturned and used.
Four dollars for its fresh new pot,
Glazed and painted blond and blue,
And three more for some brand new soil,
Made to make leaves grow anew.

Plant looks for warmer days long past,
For soothing droplets of clear rain.
It sings of sun and gentle winds
With half its stems sliced straight in twain.
Perhaps it was a mother plant
Whose severed stems grew stalks again.

It asks me, “Am I beautiful?”
As glittered string stands it up straight.
It would fall without the twine
To stop its horizontal fate.
I smile and welcome it on home;
It is home now, at any rate.

It takes a few weeks, though it tries,
To familiarize with sun and soil,
Then, at last, as winter’s clouds
Through late fall skies drift past and coil,
It offers two magenta flowers,
Pea-sized products of its toil.

Stretched to the skies, like a present,
Smaller than my pinky’s nail,
Plant’s daydream takes a solid shape.
Though the figures will turn pale,
The rosy petals flutter forward,
Greeting window without fail.

I’ve spent eight dollars for two flowers,
The offspring of my houseplant green:
Tiny, fragile, representing
All this dear plant’s hoped to be.
Four dollars each, the brittle things:
That’s quite a splendid deal to me.



The next one was based off of some cahracter that, though I'm really attached to her, I've never really used her for anything...she's at least given me a lot of writing inspiration.

The healer is born to fill an empty corner,
One the world didn’t know needed filled.
Life’s breath stills, drawn in at her wake,
And magic melds with her black hair.
All as one, she sees the many others
Facing mirrors to learn how to smile,
And she gestures one phrase to all:
“I understand.”