Planting Roots/He Grows on Me

Planting Roots
by Kristi H.

There is a time,
When thoughts decay.
When caring words,
Don't seem to stay.

The days grow old.
The skies turn bleak.
Panic mounts,
As we grow weak.

There is not one,
Great, shining star,
To polish strings,
On heaven's guitar.

The blades of grass,
That grace the ground,
Are simply bare,
And can't be found.

The waters cease,
To burst and bubble.
Only making,
Much more trouble.

But sometimes,
There's a magic touch.
It happens when,
Our fingers brush.

Sometimes,
Looking in his eyes,
I see more than,
A bright blue sky.

When he whistles,
I begin to laugh,
And in that moment,
I feel so glad.

Our friendship is,
Our shining star.
It shines the strings,
Of heaven's guitar.

He grows on me,
Without a change.
I also grow,
On him the same.

These days, we're,
Inseperable,
More than two peas,
Or twins at all.

I've grown him with,
A lot of trust,
And he's grown me,
With lots of love.