If I were a plant, what would I be?
Perhaps not a plant, maybe a tree?
One that grows tall, since I’m really short
Then I can build, a neat little fort
Climb in my house, stationed up high
Breathe in the air, watch the clouds drifting by
Listen, as the birdies, sing in their nests
Yes, this is the place I would love best
But, wait, as a plant, I could grow flowers
People would care for me, hours and hours
Give me a clipping, tame back my roots
Always making sure I look very cute
Until, at last, I am blossoming full
Then out come the scissors, and I feel the pull
Snip, snip, snip, my blooms are all gone
Not exactly my idea of a beauty salon
So what should I be?
A plant or a tree?
I think perhaps
I just like being me
Author’s note: This poem was inspired by a search term that brought them to my blog: “dorinda plant”. It kind of grew on me, oh, bad pun, sorry, anyway, I hope you enjoyed! 🙂
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