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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.