Rumor says,

a little fairy lives
in the old potted plant
by the doorway.

.

For five years I’ve been working,
not once have I seen it watered.

Rumor says,

the little fairy living
in the old potted plant
by the doorway

waters the plant
with her own tears.

For five years I’ve been working,
not once have I seen it as anything but green.

Rumor says,

the little fairy living
in the old potted plant
by the doorway

lives in such grief,
day in, day out,

not one day unwatered
for the old potted plant.

.

For five years I’ve been working,
this once I came in–

said good morning to the old potted plant,
pushed the door open, then walked in.

Rumor says,

the little fairy living
in the old potted plant
by the doorway,

this one day in thousands,
forgot to shed a tear;

this one day in thousands,
let go of a leaf, let it tremble in the air.

.

For six years I’ve been working,
the past year I spent in song–

every morning I said good morning, every afternoon I whistled a tune,
every morning she’d listen, every afternoon she’d sing along.

Rumor says,

there once was
a little fairy

who lived in such grief,
she watered an old potted plant
with her own tears.

But one day, someone listened;
one day, someone heard.

Rumor says,

the potted plant by the doorway wasn’t always plastic,
the old one dried to a crisp–

for the little fairy who once watered the old potted plant with her tears,
had none left to shed; only happiness now, only bliss.

–Β “The Little Fairy Living in the Old Potted Plant by the Doorway” — for Jess.

LL.

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