Monet’s Dream

by Isa Larco

Monet's Dream


by Corinne Greene


Long scraggly fingers once adorned with leaves

(they now lie scattered on the floor)

look sad, and lonely, and naked.


Follow their lines,

down to their drooping ends

where leaves still cling, green, alive and glossy

unaware of their future on the floor.


Why did you make me this way?

Is this what you call caring?

Your worry was so great, you smothered me until I overflowed.

You left me no room to grow.



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