Plan(t)s
Published in
1 min readNov 6, 2017
The little plants we couldn’t keep
Alive, the plans we couldn’t meet
That I’ve been nurturing instead
But find I’m clutching wilted, dead
In sad forms to my chest —
Bury them like little stars
That sting a dirty sky, and marred
With fallen spines the ground will cry
For cacti
And our lost designs