Saturday, March 10, 2012

Settling Down

She watered the roots of her love
Tenderly cradling its new leaves in her palms
Whispering to them in secret
Like a little girl gifted a dream.
I don’t think she was prepared
When he trimmed the sapling carelessly
Bound its stem and snipped its roots,
Placing it in a smaller pot to flourish as a bonsai.
“You are the ornament of your home,” visitors marveled.
An impeccable hostess, with eyes downcast,
She served them the fruit of her labor in small, tasteful portions
On a silver salver.

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