You grew from the roots
that we planted.
Vined your way to the top window
and climbed in.
Furnished yourself a home
waiting for my return.
But I moved years ago.
Moved out and moved on.
The miles of road I’ve traveled
put continents between us.
In the years that were,
you waited.
Growing from sun and storm.
Building on a foundation that cracked.
A weed in a rock.
