Seedling Story
The tiny seed of a story
plants itself —
evidence of
something I saw
or heard
or felt
or imagined.
My mind —
a terracotta pot
housing its potential.
I water it with coffee
and oversized mugs
of Earl Grey tea.
It takes root,
diving deep into
the soil of my heart.
Sprouting tendrils
made of words
and phrases stretching
forth in hopes
they’ll see the light of day.
I tend with care,
pruning where needed
because pruning
bears the most
abundant fruit.
In time,
a seedling story
stands on its own,
strong enough
to be planted outside
for someone else
to enjoy.
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