Enter the greenhouse.
I love it here. From the gritty soil
to the abundant moisture.
Yet my palms are sweaty,
my green thumb is sore.
Classical music is to growing,
as is a kid to a toy store.
For once, a life-size terrarium holds me,
instead of ants who see grass as the trees.
Constrained, but so free.
This world remains a prison, but it contains both you and me.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
Enter the greenhouse.
I love it here. From the gritty soil
to the abundant moisture.
Yet my palms are sweaty,
my green thumb is sore.
Classical music is to growing,
as is a kid to a toy store.
For once, a life-size terrarium holds me,
instead of ants who see grass as the trees.
Constrained, but so free.
This world remains a prison, but it contains both you and me.
