A
discarded
plant was I
that a traveler,
a kind, gentle traveler,
picked gently up, and
planted in a rich, fertile land
to make me a tree,
a big, blossoming tree,
but no, - not for him,
yet for all the passers-by.
I’m that tree, that tree,
that he wanted me to be,
with boughs so bent and so low,
with fruits full of ripe and so raw,
caring...
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