Conversations with a Houseplant

TITLE: CONVERSATIONS WITH THE HOUSEPLANT

WRITTEN BY: LEGANCY WORDS

I brought you home from the grocery store, A bit of green for my kitchen floor. A splash of life,a quiet friend, On whom my silent thoughts depend.

Your leaves were wide, a waxy sheen, The brightest green I’d ever seen. I put you right there by the chair, A promise of good,attentive care.

I told you today about the rain, That pattered on the windowpane. I said it must be nice for you, This simulated morning dew. I forgot to water you again.

My boss said my report was bland. I didn’t have a comeback planned. I just stood there,nodding, small. I wish I had your quiet tallness, Your simple,steadfast, leafy wall-ness. You don’t have to talk at all.

A brown tip on your lowest leaf. A silent signal of my grief. I snap it off.A guilty crime. I’m running out of overtime. I’m running out of time.

I had a dream I forgot to speak. For months and months,my voice grew weak. And when I tried,just like you, No sound came out.Nothing true. Just air.Just light. Just… existing. A soul,perpetually persisting.

I see you straining for the light, A slow,enduring, daily fight. I know that feel,that leaning ache, For goodness,for a needed break. I moved you closer to the glass. We’ll watch the silent hours pass.

I overwatered you last week. I poured my love in,strong and meek. I thought I saw your soil crack, A desperate,fearful, knee-jerk act. You drooped a bit,to my surprise. The wrong kind of help can be a lie. We’re both just trying to survive.

Someone asked me how I’ve been. I said,“I’m fine,” and grinned a grin. I didn’t say I talk to you, That some days the world feels painted blue. I didn’t say my roots feel shallow, Or that my ambitions feel so small. I just said,“Fine.” And that was all.

A new shoot curls, a fragile green, A tiny,hopeful, unseen scene. You’re trying still,despite my neglect, A lesson I didn’t expect. Maybe we’re both a little frail, Bent by life’s prevailing gale, But even slow,this quiet growth, This daily,patient, inward oath… Perhaps for us,it is enough.

So I’ll sit here, and you’ll stand there, A silent,most devoted pair. I’ll tell you things I can’t confess, And you’ll just listen,and grow less. And in your slow and fading green, I see my own self,faintly seen. My quiet,leafy, confidant. My beautiful,and dying,plants. ☘️ ☘️ ☘️

But what if I tried something new? What if I learned to care for you? Not with a flood,but with the rain, To gently soothe your silent pain. A steady drip,a patient hand, To help us both to understand.

I’ll wipe the dust from off your leaf, And try to counter my own grief. I’ll turn your face towards the sun, And promise not to overrun The quiet space that you require, The very thing I too desire.


And if a leaf must brown and fall, I’ll not see it as my final call. I’ll see it as a change of skin, A quieter way to begin. A letting go of what is past, A part of us that couldn’t last.


So we will practice, you and me, In being what we’re meant to be. Not perfect,not completely known, But not entirely alone. You’ll teach me how to simply be, And I will finally set you free.


Not free to die, but free to grow, However slow,however slow. And I will sit,and you will stand, The quietest pair in all the land. And in your green,however faint, I see the world,without complaint