Poem Seed, Poem tree?

When I was five my father knelt down

He held my hand, a heavy look in his eye

His was smile worn from regret, like sorrow filled up his bones

In my little hand he placed a ruff seed

He told me

"This is our family's seed, it grows with your soul. 

Its growth a reflection of your inner whole."

I didn't understand at the time, 
the weight of what it mirrored.

'a seed that grows with me! How cool!'

He guided my planting, we picked green pot

Covering with fresh dirt, I turned to him bouncing 

He was staring at the pot eyes lost in past and future 

I didn't understand, but looking back perhaps now I do?



When I was seven I loved the plant

It grew fast under my gentle care

Soft brown stems, bright green leaves, bounded up

I kept it on my nightstand, talked to it every morning 

I admired how fast and tall it was growing 



When I was nine it's starting to branch out

Limbs curiously stretching out to the sides

Those leaves were different, bigger, 

as if they wanted to take everything in

mornings no longer spent with it, but instead reading 



When I was 11 I hid it in my closet, I didn't want Mom to see

The branches grasped in the dark curiously 

It grew still, but  with darker branches and spiky leaves

Above those branches bloomed bright green leaves

I ignored the blight as much as I could



When I was 13 I brought the plant out when Grandpa asked

There were more dark limbs at the bottom, 

Covered by a bigger bloom of pleasant foliage

He had a soft smile and gave me a tight hug

He made me promise to never blame the plant for its appearance 



When I was 15 showed some friends the plant

Small white and black flowers had bloomed

They covered the branches everywhere, peeking out between the leaves 

My friends smiled and chatted, but they didn't understand 

Do they not have a plant, can they not see how bright one can be?



At 17 the some flowers had fallen

Those dark leaves spreading up from their hidden roost

The plant was weird, unlike any other, one none asked to see

The bottom leaves were small and almost black, 

but they faded upwards to the small canopy of green



18 oh 18 I doubted the seed

Dark branches grew thorny, dark thistles like me

The bright leaves are dying, big leaves crying for me

Within thorny growth, red flowers have bloomed

True friends gave it water, after showing me it has roots



Just into 19 I sit on a pew 

I ponder the plant, the world, and my view 

Soft whispers escape, but gloomy and few

Hands tremble slowly, pen quivers its due

I speak up to no one, please answer me true

“. . . before it's all over I can show it to you?”

I am still not super confident in this one. I have spent days thinking about it, it's meaning, how to write it, writing, revising, rewriting, rethinking it's purpose and meaning, rewriting again, revising, ect. I hope it's decent now because its the poem I have spent the most time on by far. Most are one day project that take a few hours not something that's been smoldering for weeks. So hopefully you enjoyed it and have some interesting comments! Thank you for reading. 🩵