The Voice Issue 29: May/June 2017 - Page 32


Domestic Flowers

A row of terracotta flower pots,

filled to the brim with dirt,

sat on your windowsill.

There were seeds planted in those flower pots,

marigold seeds,

waiting for water to poke through the dirt.

But it doesn’t rain inside! I yelled.

But then I watched

as your poured water from a watering can.

The leftover water drained down,

down to the bottom of the flower pot

and out through the tiny hole in the bottom.

There must be grass to soak up the rain! I yelled.

But then I watched you place the flowerpots on plates,

and watched you sponge up the spilled water.

Over time, the roots began to spread,

and sneak out of the tiny hole in the bottom,

because there was no more room in the pot.

No flower can grow like that! I yelled.

But then I watched as the seed sprouted

and grew and grew and grew.

An orange flower burst open,

vibrant colors dotted the windowsill,

bringing life to the terracotta pots.

If you cut it, it will die! I yelled.

And I watched as you snipped the stem,

and placed it in a vase.

I watched the orange flower wither,

and the dirt in the terracotta pots dry and crack,

and the windowsill become dusty.

You were right, you said.

- Eliza, Newbury, VT

Let's Grow Old Together

I was just sixteen

when you said,

"Let's grow old together."

I stopped what I was doing,

whatever I was doing,

and felt a smile

spread across my face,

reaching all the way to my eyes.

"Okay," I replied,

with every part of me

believing what I was saying.

- EmilyAnne, Craftsbury, VT

Lia Chien, Jericho, VT