I never had one until now.
I positioned the fuschia blooming plant on the shelf.
Brought Christmas into the little room.
The room with no windows, private, quiet.
The fuschia withered and so
Now next to the little teeny birthday card that called me “rare”.
The Christmas cactus in makeshift pot will rest.
And I will watch it bloom.
Christmas makes me think of before, places, people, homes and moods.
Can shift me from hope for the day to acceptance of sameness of before.
I shall move now.
Place my heart in the place of new.
Find a new growing spot.
Well lit, spacious.
Room for hope to bloom.