a loss of purpose

i once dreamed we were plants. we hung 

from a bedroom ceiling-- gold chains held us 

 from collapsing onto the fluffed white rug. 

rocks and pebbles held us in our pots. 

my soil was stiff , as was yours. 

i wondered why we were never near the sunlight. 

i wondered why our thirst was always satisfied. 

we were enclosed in a glass dome that swayed each time the girl closed the door.

we never grew

we were never real