I have planted your mint.
Three prongs of green 

with lavender like spikes

nestle in my old bathtub of basil,

and fallen leaves.

Passionfruit plummet

like indigo bombs

hurtling in “thuds,” from the vine

punctuating soft, 

and dream like time
wondering if the cuttings

might take root, and grow. 

And I have to say,

in spite of what my heart’s known,

quietly rather hope so.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s