Ode to Monstera Deliciosa

[na_lon]

With air roots grasping at the moisture and
with leaves a-twisting up and to the light
you dominate my living room and bring
to me self-centered unaware delight.
What do you think my pretty busy plant?
What makes you weave and grow inside your pot,
as if no rose or orchid could compete
with simple beauty of your shiny self?
Each new-green spike, each shapely windowed leaf
a stanza in your jungle-fevered dream
in which the rain drops fall on you direct
from tow'ring trees and birds and insects buzz.
So grow my love and hold that dream for me
until I bring the wat'ring can to thee!

('Cos other people was posting po'try).