every raindrop gives aid to my vines
entangled in the thought you must be
of loving the garden where your naked feet
have touched the muddy water
to clean it off, you must leave
but with you, if you must be gone
please take with you
at least one seed
but may you stay, let your feet sink deep
with every step, that stomp will leave
a print that only you can give to me
your identity can hold my leaves
instead of them running free along the floor
can they trace the contour of your curves
and be held in the palm
of your fate telling grasp
the universe, i have always asked it
these vines they grow, these leaves so green
but for what if they are only meant for me
stay by here and you may see what it means to have my seasonal seeds.
the ****** broke the other night and i think i wrote this as a way to cope.