Lake Lewisia #687

[scrubjayspeaks]

He had found the plant on the side of the road, its seed dropped by some passing bird into a place it clearly wasn't meant to grow, the blue flowers almost glowing amidst the weeds. The coffee cup he'd been using to collect spare change from passersby served as a pot, and he kept the little thing watered and warm in his bags, in the shelter, in the bus terminal, wherever he went in search of his own warmth and safety. It took many cycles of growth and blooming and dormancy, but he made them both a home, a place where neither of them needed to be uprooted any longer, where a coffee cup garden could become more.

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LL#687