I reached out to you in a dream last night. I know I dreamed of you, and I know I touched you in my dream, but I am not sure at all when that was, or silly me, if it was a dream at all. Perhaps I’ve tossed and turned all night, longing to be touching you, and then woke up with a hazy recollection of it and transposed it into a dream. Sadly, my ability to place the events in time or place is fuzzy, unfocused.
Weeds are limited in that way. They accept what is and do not question.
I remember the ache, the stretching, the yearning to be near you and then the softness and the delicate intake of breath as I reached for you and possibly brushed up against you. Did I find you? Were you really there? Or is this a telling a dream from which I cannot awaken? In my dream you were happy and shining, and others saw your worth just as brightly as I do. You glimmered with promise as you stood strong and tall. Your heart beat warmly with a fire that all could appreciate. And I was allowed to be close to you and smile with the knowledge that my faith in you had been realized with blossoms of contentment.
Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.
We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.