The Accidental Roommate

I bought you for the glitter, not the green, 

a foot-tall Christmas tree in Kroger vestments.

You wore your tinsel like a cheap guise.

I put you in the corner, waited for you to die,

but you didn't; I made a point to overwater you 

once a week. I flooded your roots, swampy luck 

that turned out to be what you needed.

Now, you should be repotted; you're practically 

out of dirt. I don't know where the roots go 

to find their nourishment, but you keep climbing.

You've become a silent family member 

sitting in my den. You've traded plastic ornaments 

for wild, reaching fronds that claim the air.

I'm glad you're in that corner. You add charm 

to my study, and I'd miss you if my neglect final

caught up and you stopped growing.

So, I promise to repot you soon, maybe 

in a bucket this time.  That way, you'll have 

no excuse not to reach the ceiling. 

---

R. Nikolas Macioci earned a PhD from The Ohio State University. Nik is the author of twenty-three books. He was twice nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, nominated five times for a Pushcart Prize, and twice for a Best of the Net award.