On The Way

halfway there

Before reading the note again

Yesterday called out to the traveler

Making a fire, It asked her to sit

 

It tried to comfort her

But the blanket given weighed her down

It tried to console her

But the stories told were stale and idle

 

It sang songs of her childhood and

Assuring her there’s nothing new to see

And no one new to be 

It sat her in front of her favorite meal

 

Looking at her hand as she reached for the cutlery

grabbing her belongings, onward she continued

Penned in her palm, the note from Tomorrow

A plant grows only as big as the pot it is in