Entangled

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Minor touch that burnt my fingertips. Simmering pain that only lasts a second. Maybe a second too long. I could replace it with flowers one day. Call it my Phoenix rising from the dead. 

It's blinding. Maybe curtains would shield me from the sun one day. It's unnerving. Building a new home. Brick by brick. Slowly. Fast. Then, slow again. It came in pieces. Put them together; together. 

Attached trees. With hanging vines and fruits. The sweetest fruits. The ones made from the deepest rooted tree. Planted from centuries of love. Nurtured by change and often forgotten. But still there.  Entangled in the ground. Rooted together. Next to the Home. With beautiful wild flowers that were planted together.  

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