Geometry

a poem

And, what shape are you?

How many sides, which way do they bend, how do they meet?
Are you round like a circle, rolling and unable to stop?
Do you lean, just a little, to the side like a trapezoid?
If I push you, do you straighten up like a square?

Perhaps a pentagon is more you, all angles and lines.
Nothing gets around you easily, and whichever way you land
you appear right-side-up and strong.

I knew someone shaped like a macaroni once.
No matter how she bent, she couldn’t make her ends meet.

As for me, I was once just a line.
Not much to see, very narrow and straight until that day
when I started to grow.
I don’t know how, but I twisted around like a pretzel, reaching and bending
Until I nearly choked and tangled myself into a ball.
Then I was more like a web.

A spider web, but the flies kept sticking to me.
So I grew more.
Before I knew it I had sprouts on my bottom.
They became thick and tunneled deep into the ground.
Suddenly I was rooted.

My arms grew from being knots and spread higher and wider and
I, once just a little line,
became the shape of a tree.

So I ask you again, what shape are you?
Most importantly, what will you become?