If I'd fit in the windowsill I'd plant myself in your direction, I would =

use the sun's energy to make this place destination. How dare I hate =

this space I occupy, I'm left to my devices, turning to light I'm =

waiting for the cue, to beckon to the shoot, and break the crust upon =

the soil. Lack of light the iris expands, my eyes abosorb a power coming =

from behind my dim room, in my den amber and damp, as if lit by faith =

alone, I've been more faithful than you know.

Submitted by: Mel