For 19 years I watched my parents
wither under the burning sun,
their spines bending with old age
With their leaves and fruit falling,
and decaying beneath their limbs.

I spent my youth curled up
under my parent's and eating their fruit.
ripened cherries always reflecting
images of a younger me
curly hair, big eyes, and red stained mouth;
soft hands always grasping upward,
crying for more on a full stomach.

A year ago I moved into my own apartment
my parents gave me a daisy
as a housewarming gift
but yesterday it lost its last leaf
while I was trying to find shade
back under my parents again.
In the midsts of trying to get things
back to the way they used to be
I forgot to water it.
Half of the petals withered under the sun
and for the first time in awhile, I cried.

The way I mourned for the daisy
was the same way I did
when my parents refused to let me
find shelter back under their dense limbs
and refused to let me eat their fruit
leaving it there to spoil.