It was with no small grin that he approached
my desk
nearly
ready to rock
back
forth
on his heels
toes
“While you were gone—“
he
began,
dashing a glance to my windowsill garden,
“I
thought you should know,”
and here I wondered
as he
paused
so I guessed—
way, way off—
“I watered my plant myself.”
He
nodded, confirming.
I repeated, to confirm.
Agreed.
Beaming.
“I’m proud of you,”
I offered, proud.
He accepted, proud
“That’s all I wanted,” he said.
Water me, we say.
No comments:
Post a Comment