We Only Sow

Tiny fingers slide across
the tabletop where
a little girl has found herself
and an object
to hold her attention.

Little milk carton cut in half
filled with dirt and what will one day be
A rose?
A lily?
She'll have to wait.
These tiny seeds all look the same,
but patience is not a virtue
posessed by those with tiny fingers
that tap out hurried rhythms like morse code
spelling "come to me.
I don't want to be alone."
Impatiently, improbably
but she whispers
grow
grow
grow
as that frustrating,
half empty milk carton
inches closer to the garbage bin.

Little girl in grown up body
sipping a milkshake half empty
sitting across from...him.
The one?
She lost count.
And his eyes are darting back and forth
looking for someone else
who wants to hear about his job
car
friends
self.
And why? Of all the mounds of dirt to pick?
This one? With eyes to melt her worries away
and a mouth to bring them back again?


Her fingernails, now painted red
are tap tap tapping
on the tabletop once again
grow
grow
grow
"I don't want to be alone."