Life of a house plant.

The life of a house plant may not be the most glamorous thing to focus on, but in writing about it...I found it to be quite beautiful.

A plant once hung here,

A plant with bright, green, leafy vines

that hung half way from the ceiling to the ground.

It sat in the same crumbling, rusted red pot that it had for over 20 years,

since before the day we hooked it to the ceiling.

It used to sway quietly like a pendulum

through the breeze created by the humming

of a 10 year old, half broken air conditioner.

Throughout the years it went unnoticed,

Watered on occasion,

when its leaves went limp and dull.

No one noticed it’s wilting this year.

The swirling dust had settled down on its drooping arms,

and dried up the thirsty soil,

creating a desolate desert of dirt,

its shroud, its grave.

The vines had faded to a grey-like yellowish…

Limp and lifeless leaves fell to the ground

only to be vacuumed up

and cursed at upon removal.

Then at 2:01 pm

the white discolored wire

that led up to a hook upon where it hung,

was removed and lowered

into its final resting place;

A shining black, Glad stretchable trash bag.

It’s now sitting at the curb,

waiting to be removed by Waste Management,

and the only thing I can think about is its “un-existence” in the room.

All that’s left is the chipped paint hook,

a memory,

And the breeze of a 10 year old, half broken air conditioner.

*MJ