POTTED PLANT

POTTED PLANT

Like a potted plant I sit
in the windy sun
pondering all that
I have done.

I have not followed
the road straight and narrow,
and I've been no stranger
to sorrow.

I wanted to see the world,
and I
saw much of the United States;

Through all of it
I could hardly say
that any had been a mistake.

The world is narrow,
the world is wide,
there's always something else
on the other side..

But coming home to Brooklyn
to sit in a pot
now is all I've got
and all I cherish;

Where my grandparents lived
is my abode,
and I'm not sorry
for the ride I rode.

Handicapped now
from wear and tear,
my pleasure is in
the knowledge I bear.

The world is narrow,
the world is wide,
there's always something else
on the other side.

RC  3/30/17