Do I know how happy your head is in that sanctuary?

The vase; yourself; you tread behind his mind.

And he, the jeweleries of the earth, begot.

May I know how far your legs carry you?

For it has been years

Since I saw you stationed in the wild corner of his sitting room

With only your tiny fingers waving around to the passing winds;

How far do they travel?

And what blessing carries them to the eavesdropping man?

Since our first encounter

I saw the faint you

Is it because your hands are still turbid?

Or is it pride to declare the ache in your mind?

 

Potted tree, you ravished sibling

Haven’t you seen the ages of your head

servicing the distances that man never dreams of venturing?

 

But you, you only sigh by the deaths of your properties

And count how many of them remain to make your heart wilt.

 

Potted tree, you dispirited child of nature.

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