I envy trees,
that deepen their roots.
I wish I were like them:
Not soon plucked.
4 times I switched vases,
Wanting to be in a field.
4 times abandoned,
Living only by phases.
No soil would embrace me.
No fields to be joined.
No roots spreading.
No leaves to be coined.
Fruits I will never have.
Branches I will never bare.
Rotten I will become.
Dead I will be by dawn.