Peering through the window, water apple leaves
sway with the breeze; dancers of the night
with green veined fingers cast quirky shadows
against the cream-colored concrete walls.
Beneath them, i turn to the porcelain cup
in my hands, whirling the tinted water of
fresh picked tea leaves invisible under steam
before lushing up to quench my thirst.
I look up and marvel
as succulent water apples
bounce back and forth
from their wellspring
like little children
playing tug-of-war.
It's an ingenuous spectacle
of swollen receptacles and
calyces on chlorophyll clothes
and cellulose accessories.
With the wind swatting their soft skins,
i wonder how they held on
and remained firm with every blow.
Wouldn't they want to be free
and relish liberty on the ground?
I lay my back on a soft cushion
as the reality finally convinces me
- life -
in its bare simplicity.
I simply smile.
