Gentle hands lift me up, Whisper sweet things You think I can't hear. Plunge me down Into the soft black, Half bury me. Sweet things once again Now you give me a drink And pat around me. I don't know much About windowsill life But I'm sure I'll grow to like it here.
Love this poem! Great metaphor for all who have to start anew somewhere else!
it’s actually just about my houseplant Philip the philodendron, but I appreciate that you think I’m deep!
🙂 Well Philip is in a better place now… love it!
oh dont worry hes alive