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.