I never have been one it seems
To roam and lose my head
But one spring day I wandered off
And nurtured seedlings, bright and soft
In someone else’s bed.

As I watched the seedlings sprout
Through countless days and hours
I imagined their bright autumn show
Knowing as I watched them grow
I could never claim the flowers.

In that bed of flowers, grows a vine
Now a part of me, that isn’t mine.