The roots won't grow, they just won't. The water is tepid and the gnats know this as they hover over it. They buzz around with grand expectations and buzz in anticipation of thriving in such fertile conditions (for water is as life-giving as is soil). Propagated from one flesh to another in hopes of growth. However, the roots just won't take. Slime already grows there. Some gnats may lay eggs, glass jelly sacs, tenderly floating amongst the roots. Soon it all starts to rot, to stink, just the same as before.

Banners of blossom
Hardy perennials
One big metaphor

Art is born in a poets hand,
Though, like the fragile flower it is,
Art always crumbles to dust.

It drags the poet with it too,
For deep in their heart it grows its roots.
So when it fades, wrapping tight around their sickly heart,
The beating stops and they drop.

It's a beautiful ***,
But wouldn't it benefit from some green?
I reckon you better start prepping that soil,
Because we're going to plant a tea tree!
Imagine how wonderful that would be,
Blossoming white flowers, a warm cup and bees.

Oh, imagine a garden full of bumble bees!
Buzzing about the perfect petals,
Pouring pollen into the breeze.
If only we had a garden,
We could sit and lunch,
Pastry, cheese, and the sweet drink from our tree!
Darling, while your out buying seed,
Would you grab a few more pots?

Carefully placed and covered with love
Patience emerged in hydration
Stretching into the dancing air
Golden warmth radiates across my face
Sinking my roots further into the foundations
Of past experience
Inching further toward the sky
Waiting to blossom into potential
An open story to share again
May the withering be slow to come
Nourishing those surrounding the performance
I can become,

                                                        ­           once again

The house at the corner of the street,
with its striking red and green windows,
stands out.

An old neem tree still stands tall.
A few years ago, the place was filled with plants and flowers,
and I even noticed butterflies fluttering around.
But now, all the plant life has dried up—
there’s no water to sustain them.