In the springtime,
did I hold too tight?
Wrapping the shadows of your feet.
Foraging towards your forbidden heights.
Struggling to grow
in the crevices of you.
Bending ancient thoughts
beneath ever-changing skin.
I am only inching
in your sunlight.
Clinging during downpours,
a sapling,
delicate and flat against you.
Always twining you to me,
interlacing my tenuous grip
with your sturdy confidence.
For you,
tomorrow will exist.
It’s my brevity that makes me
seasonal.
I’m always the vine,
never the tree.
Another lovely poem.
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Thank you. I wrote this one seven years ago, but it seemed the right day for it to be published here. It’s one I think of at times, so I think that’s a good thing.
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🙂Yep. It’s funny how we remember some more than others…
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I love the botanical references and the erotic lyricism and the sad, sad realization of that last stanza.I notice you take great care with the art works that accompany your poems 🙂
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Thank you, John. Art seems such a natural pair to poetry, and I get excited when I see one that will pair with my words. Saw this painting online this morning, and thought of this poem, so it was meant to be. Very kind comments. I’m glad you like this one.
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Oh, I love this! This is so vivid. I can feel the desperation. Gorgeous poem!
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Thank you, friend. I’m glad you like my, I mean, the speakers’s desperation in this one. 🙂
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Stunning! I love this one.
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Thank you for such a kind comment. 🙂
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