Poem by Olivia Peterson

Three plants sit at my window.

when I bought them it was sunny and dry,

fuzzy white patches on the thick, green, leaves.

Now they sit against a dark and wet horizon.

I try to tend to them every day,

but they can’t get enough water.


I buy a spray bottle and mist them with more water.

Yet still they sit dying at my window.

So sad, I think, as I watch them today.

Spray, drip, mist, but still too dry.

Quite different from the cold and wet horizon.

I shift their pots and prop up their leaves,


but this plague on my plants never seems to leave.

I pick up my can, fill it with water,

and feed my plants as my eyes scan the horizon.

I move to the left. The view is better from this window.

Then I inspect the soil. A bit dry.

Good thing I water them 20 times a day.


I can’t stop watering, but maybe someday.

Twice a day I check them, inspecting every leaf.

I am filled with sorrow because one looks dry.

I pick up my can and water, water, water!

After this I feel better and look out my window.

I shift my plants toward the sun, as it moves to the horizon.


I love the look of my plants against the horizon.

But wait, one looks dead. Did I water it yesterday?

I can’t remember. My spray bottle smashes the window.

I pick shards of glass from the leaves.

Then I take my can and begin to water.

I feel the soil between my fingers. Too dry.


My plants are always too dry!

I gather them up and throw them to the horizon.

I stomp on their leaves and drown them in water.

I will always remember the day

I killed my plants. I left

them to die and now there are no plants on my window.

0 comments on “Succulents

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