All plants need water, just like we need love;
Without it they will shrivel up and die.
Such thoughtlessness is what I’m thinking of
When I observe my little plants so dry.
Without their moisture, greenest leaves turn brown;
A supple branch becomes a brittle twig.
As without love a smile becomes a frown,
And just a little loneliness seems big.
I found a little plant of mine today,
Outside my window, looking dry and sad.
I left it there when I had gone away,
Forgotten, when I might have made it glad.
I wish I had a more consistent touch.
I seem to give too little or too much.