‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’

A dark brown almost black desk,
Over a decade old,
Sat in my room

Serving as everything 

My little brain could imagine at nine;

A spaceship rocketing through galaxies
A tower with a balcony

A little shop where my sister and I sold 'Magic Water'

A stage for performances

A carriage drawn by horses.

A dark brown almost black desk,
Over two decades old,

Sits in my room

Decorated with trinkets

Pieces of my personality

My colourful potted plants
Too many candles

Letters
Feathers

Books

Pictures

Pebbles.

I sit here, fabricating tales
Of sorrow and joy,

Creating worlds far and beyond

Stitching feelings together;

Calling them Poetry

Dreaming of dragons and stardust

Flying through the clouds almost like a Raven

So when The Mad Hatter asks
‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’

Looking right into my eyes

With his glassy dazed gaze,

I whisper,

'Because it can be anything.'

The Art of Taking Care of Flowers - Part 3

//The Thorny One//

First step: name it.

The flowers in this plant grow once in a blue moon

But the spikes coming together 

Look no less than a galaxy of stars

This one doesn't grow with daily sips of water

Or the manure you put in the soil

The Prickly Plant grows out of the magic of love

Take a paint brush,

One that you can twirl between your fingers,

Dip it lightly in water

Cleanse the green between the spikes

Whisper happy thoughts 

While you gently rinse it out
Let the sun softly kiss 

Ensure no parasites invade its home

It is a welcoming plant 

But you are the guardian

Final step: admire it.

//Some actual helpful gardening advice with a dash of poetry. For Part One click here. For Part Two click here. //