I will, I will, I will
keep this promise
to myself.
Like the begonia cutting
sadly withered but fighting for survival
In that place where charity
asked small change.
I knew I must take you home,
Now you grace the space
where dreams are made.
That silent sanctuary
where time is mine
and mine alone.
I watched you grow,
you discarded your dying leaves;
but there were moments
I was deceived,
when death seemed imminent;
Then tiny shoots
almost screamed their way
into this world.
you grew with a tender touch
and survived.
I will learn be gentle with myself,
and persevere.
Honorable mention
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