The So-called Weed

Romantic notions defenestrated .
Still, under the ledge, they grew and bloomed.
Implanting its roots slowly and silently in my life,
For everyday, its them I see.
The leaves unfurled and the process starts.
Till one day, a crimson bud peeks out at me.
From seeing to tending.
From indifference to something more.
But the question is...
Is it still mine?





30/07/07
11.55 PM