Window Flowers In A Watered Jar

Window Flowers In A Watered Jar

Three little rebels in borrowed jars,

not a root in soil, not a fence or bars

just glass and water, clean and still

yet each one grows with stubborn will

The pink one’s loud, it hums at dawn

the orange sleeps with curtains drawn

the violet watches clouds go by

and whispers secrets to the sky

No earth to claim, no bed to own

they bloom as if the world had grown

just to see them stretch and sway

soft-footed queens of a window sill day.