I am a knitted scarf
Many don’t understand
That I am not simply bought
Stitch by stitch I am made.
Built by one single thread
One single thread
Bound together to make something.
To make me.
It takes a while to understand
How long it takes to build
the revolving atmosphere of me.

I am the dandelion.
To some I seem a weed, fighting too hard
To grow in their spot.
To others I am a source of joy,
And they find pleasure in blowing me apart
Searching for my center.
And to a few I am the plant first, not the weed
I am one with a soul, equal as them
And they embrace my color and my life.

I am a bracelet
Some think of me as an accessory, something you could live without.
And to others I never come off, dangling on their wrist
A token, a memento.
Wrapped in an endless circle
Continuing the perpetual cycle
On
And on.

I am a green leaf in autumn
Sticking out like a sore thumb
Red in a sea of black&white
Not quite fitting in, but not completely different
Still a leaf on the tree, but not the right kind.

I am a porcelain vase
Celebrated for the thin shell I show:

The pretty part.
But inside I might have cracks
Hidden under the paint
And vases always have tragic deaths
They break

At the unexpected time
Eventually.
Always.