The love poem I owe you on your birthday,
Featuring the plants you put up on the window sill
That always inspires some kind of wacky idea for a poem to come.
This time is about those plants you brought home, drunk after an after-house party.
You seemed concerned and said to me:
‘I have rescued them; they haven’t even watered them. Just look at the state of ’em.’
Oh, William, you kind-hearted woodsman.
Your green thumb and general concern for all living-dependable beings is a bit of a curse for a pragmatic guy like you.
You stayed with a pigeon on his deathbed.
Out in the woods till it was his time.
Your moon on cancer shows in these complex moments,
As your sun in Virgo shines and enlightens me with a can-do attitude.
No, your friend didn’t care enough to change the plants’ soil.
This is something that you can’t excuse, and you never should.
You often seem tired and overworked.
Even then, you have no time to waste.
Sometime soon, we should lay down and rest.
Let’s not think about time passing us by,
But rather us prevailing in time, by not giving a damn (sometimes).
🦀🌙🌊♍🎂✨
With love,
Ari
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