Mock the leaves

There was a pot of plant that I've left outside, 
And under the sun it has grown new wings. 
The wings fluttered when they were called to ride, 
And the wind echoed with delightful flings. 
Times I'd walk by the place to peer a glance, 
And brush rather lightly to rid the dust. 
In return, it'd twirl to do a lil' dance
And whisper so softly the words of trust. 
Our friendship sprouted as those four wings do, 
And little did I know that things would twist:
The plant's seen too much of the clouds and blue, 
And has wished to fly away—into the mist. 
Times, I'd catch it trying, by the window, 
And I'd mock, tear-held, in the shadow.

Dale Chou
2001-08-28