There are these two little plants that have lived on my kitchen counter top for years.
Through rain or shine, they've stayed healthy and strong.
After water and care deprivation they've still survived.
They've grown greener throughout the springtime.
They've lost bits and pieces of themselves during the cold winters.
They've always been there. Blooming.
They've resided on their little white tiled counter top for some time.
They've seen the birds fly past, and they've heard the wind howl and stir the trees.
Listening and watching from their kitchen window.
They've seen the many meals cooked on the stove and the many
movies watched on the couch.
They've seen how we've grown. How we've lived.
They've sat there day after day... and they've grown too.
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Just recently those two little plants have started to wilt.
They've grown tired. They've grown dry.
No amount of water, sunlight, or even loving care can rescue them.
After all these years... they are dying.
It's like they know.
It's like they feel it too.
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