My chest rises with the tide.
Ever slowly, ever patient.
As if I were waiting for a bus,
That will never come.
I pull my bottom lip in just enough,
That my upper lip wraps over it like a blanket.
I do this when I’m lost in thought.
Without a flashlight without a map.
I stand here between two trees,
Taller than I.
I long to be large like them.
To flip my hair, and dance in the wind.
To drop my petals around your feet,
and smile as you breathe me in and,
Stand under my branches when it rains.
Though I am only small and,
Often unseen and unheard.
Forgotten among altricial species more defined.
Though I am weak, and cowardly.
My hair pulled back and my feet planted insecurely.
I cannot dance.
I can only dream.