not all posts have titles

...and I saw life like dried leaves

Detached from the branch

Rustling away in the wind

It floated for a while then

Settled on the water surface

The gentle wind carried it to the edge

There it lay

Brown and moistened

Waiting to decay


not every poem makes sense, some are just but glimpses into an uncharted worlds. written during hazy thinking experiment time

#100days of blogging #day4

plant life

I wonder how plant parents deal with their teen offspring

Like how do they determine who are wrong company

Is it uncommon for plants to hang out with weeds

Moreover, do the weed dudes hit on plant chics

And when the teen plants learn to skip taking -cides

Then they harbor pests

How do they rebel against their parent plants?

Do they bend away from them

Or just stick it to them and grow taller

I wonder if parent plants ground their offspring

And threaten to take away their pollen

Or a plant jail that locks plants for hours without sunshine

I bet a plant dream is about swaying in the wind

And a nightmare is being turned into paper

Or is it?

I need to bend my branches out of this house and ask my plant parents.