a loss of purpose
i once dreamed we were plants. we hung
from a bedroom ceiling-- gold chains held us
from collapsing onto the fluffed white rug.
rocks and pebbles held us in our pots.
my soil was stiff , as was yours.
i wondered why we were never near the sunlight.
i wondered why our thirst was always satisfied.
we were enclosed in a glass dome that swayed each time the girl closed the door.
we never grew
we were never real
This poem is about:
Our world