Shoots
Waiting for the first shoots
Hurts. Hurry, she whispers
Every morning, the first light
Gathering the soil, her song
Guiding the seed, up, up, out
Of its tomb.
She tries patience.
Trapped in a jigsaw, a concrete
Tower, estate, city. Dry
Blocks on blocks on
Road paved with paving
Stones. She longs for her
Green shoot.
Tempted, she shakes
The soil gently, seeking
what is below. Days of
Nothing. Seed, stubbornly
Turning away from her.
Care; water; nursing.
Nurturing is a small
Wish, she thinks.
She wakes early
Worrying; the wind
Whips at her windows
Through the night.
Light scratches
Her pillow in hard
Streaks of dust.
She runs out. There.
A little green shoot
Hoping for the sky.
Lucy Ashe is an English teacher. She writes reviews for Playstosee.com and currently has a feminist dystopian novel out on submission to agents. Her poetry and prose are soon to be published in Truffle Literary Magazine and 192 Poets' Directory. You can also find her here: @LSAshe1.