Sun-Bleached Green

They said it couldn't die, this plant,

resilient, tough, a hardy breed.

I put it where the light was scant,

then moved it to where sun would feed.

And still, a single leaf turned gold,

then amber, thin, translucent light.

A story silently untold,

against the window, morning bright.

It hung there, frail, a fading plea,

this green that should have held its own.

While life outside grew wild and free,

my perfect spot became its stone.

And now another follows suit,

a quiet, slow, perplexing fade.