by gerbil
A cactus doesn’t love you.
He lives in spite of you.
Some grow in spirals
like Fibonacci’s offspring.
Some have fuzz most pleasing.
One day I want to own a greenhouse
filled with these ornery plants—
big ones with Mickey Mouse ears,
petite ones from the market,
and ones with flowers
blooming on top like jaunty berets.
A cactus doesn’t love you,
but he can make you laugh.
He’s stubborn and never lets on
when his feelings are hurt,
even though inside
he’s soft and sweet as jelly.
He saves face no matter how
bad the circumstance,
waiting for rain in the desert,
braving sandstorms.
He has shallow roots but stays put--
a role model, really.
I keep my cactus on the kitchen table.
He reminds me to be tough on the outside
and tender on the inside.