Nestled inside tangled
Leaves of green velvet,
Some misshapen but
Most are oval and fuzzy,
Ridges and veins.
Stems, supple and fibrous,
Buried in potting soil,
Roots established, easily thriving
On the kitchen window sill,
Stretching toward
Sunshine’s nourishment.
Keeping the dirt moist,
Knowing it loves to be bathed and fed.
After time, delicate blossoms fade
To a lighter hue,
Wither, prepare to die off
With a promise that replacements
Will appear to fascinate