I hide my sterile walls with the plants around me.
These square rooms are cold and gray.
The crawling leaves hide the architect’s perfect angles.
I care for them gingerly—they need my love.
I have no pets anymore.
The responsibility was far too much.
I feel dark shame when I forget.
I am alone today and enjoy the solitude.
I am not sad because I have found the life.
I feel at home and my vines bring me joy.
W. Wayne B.
New poetry book: Eyes of Hope
Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb
© 2015 W. Wayne B.
Original image: The Grapes of Benevolence. By Jonathan Warner [Image license]
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