The bonsai tree

You bought me

For my eleventh birthday

In its little round bowl

Blue crackled glaze

Sixteen years old

A microcosm of beauty

Placed into my naive hands

Along with a booklet

A pair of scissors

And a hopeful smile

Lasted three weeks

Before my childhood neglect

Caused it to wilt

And perish

The cracked soil

And parched leaves

Silently screaming for water

While I played video games

And waited for dinner

Which I believe

On that particular night

Was fish fingers

 

My favourite.