I am rooted.

(suffering from chronic wanderlust contradicts

what I'm saying, don't you think?)


I'm rooted to my friends

(you guys are the best—life without you

would be intolerable)


I'm rooted to my family

(they're annoying but they love me and

that is all that matters)


I'm rooted to my home

(frequent earthquakes, delusional

people and all)


I'm rooted to my health

(besides the strep throat case a few years back

when I thought I was going to die)


I'm rooted to everything

(earth, air, fire, water; my future is mine

for the shaping)


And when I'm asked if I want to stay

why is it I always reply

that I'm getting out of here as fast

as I can?


Face it; I'm rooted.

Tied to this planet, my roots

stretching deeper

than dinosaur bones.


My biggest fear?

That I can't pull those roots up

when the time comes…


Sorry about the strange spacing of the stanzas. Fictionpress hates me, what can I say?

-Amber