On Their Own

I left my vines alone to grow
Sprout leaves and push through their white tubes
With no one there to see them raise
Their reaching arms to the light at high noon
The soil I’ve toiled and tilled and turned
The water run to each a drip
I’ve watched each bud and branch unfurl
Awaiting the fruit that someday I’ll sip
My vines I’ve left at home alone
Without my daily praise and song
I hope they know they are still beautiful
And that I won’t be gone for long

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