Sonnet for My Dead Plant

I named you Gerald. Gerald, you were green

And full of promise when I brought you home,

A potted dream I'd placed between the clean

White walls where lonely windowsills get some.

I watered you with confidence at first,

Then less, then barely, then I forgot you.

The drought I gave you must have been the worst —

I bought you food but never brought it to you.

You turned to brown. I bought another green.

And then that one went brown. The pattern set.

I've killed twelve plants since 2017

And haven't let myself feel bad about it yet.

Forgive me, Gerald. May you grow somewhere

Where someone gives you water, sun, and care.