my little green plant
is my daily companion
he reaches up to greet me each morning
eager, skinny stalks tipped with youthful, frisky leaves
tender with innocence
he has never known curses or tears
and so I love him with a shallow love
he slouches to the right, or left, depending on the angle
he wonders about the clouds
he is confused about the temperature
he enjoys a little cinnamon with his tea
a little bit taller each day, I imagine
a few shades darker each week, I hope
perhaps one day,
he’ll trust me enough
to bare me a flower
though I know not whether he can
I don’t even know his name
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