Why disappear

The world is too busy for you. So you look for that which lives in stillness. You camouflage and stay amongst it. Even the trees forgot you are there. Suddenly a letter arrives, and the bookshelf calls, and the familiar face invites. You attempt to move but you have to say: later. Looking down you noticed your feet are now roots. I'll reply, I'll read, I'll visit - once I've grown. It's almost done. But not quite.