Ode

You're sitting.
Ceramic bottom on a warm windowsill
This is your only connection.

Your thirst is quiet.
Were it quenched,
you would push out your green soul.

Windy, open-doored protests
are all you can muster.

One drink and could stay alive,
and content at that,
you can't leave, anyway.
One inch, and you are dust.

Stay,
a symbol of patience,
and dependence,
and possibility-
for extinction.

If you were gone,
there would be no more of you.

Keep,
thirsty life.
Keep.