My Roots (Poem)

I may stand without withering,

Trying hard not to bend.

I may stand bright and enjoy the drizzles,

Washing away the dust and quenching my thirst.

I may sway for the wind,

Trying to wish for the song once I loved.

I may grow an inch or two,

But I know I will never bloom,

For my roots are never here.

I miss the smell of wet soil,

And the ecstasy it brings along.

I remember the fluttering of the butterfly,

And the love we shared.

I may go back once,

The wind will blow to touch my fingers.

I will never see those beautiful wings. 

But I can smell the wet soil again,

Again and again, till I forget everything.