The ground beneath my feet is firm,
yet I can spread and curl my toes
in the forgiving soil of his support.

My roots are not confined
within the parameters of a pot he picked,
but instead are free to expand and experience the terrain.
They are nourished,
showered in pure and unpolluted adoration.

My leaves are not shrouded in his shadow,

shriveled and decaying.

He has planted himself just far enough away
so my flowers may bud and bloom,
bathed in the warm sunshine.

Where our roots meet,
they touch and tangle,
but never disturb the base of the other.

Never one singular entity,
we flourish, side by side,
upon a bedrock of health and strength,
a foundation of trust and understanding.




This poem is about: 
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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