VINES

Rising from risen trees
Winding, bending silently.
Among the myriad; solitary,
Thriving on ephemeral belief.

Vines that grow awkwardly,
In orchards, gardens and cities.
One's that never set you free,
One's that do not find relief.

Vines around the telephone wire
Vines also, that fade is fire.
Vines which trees don't require,
Like vague extensions of a liar.

Where leaves glow; brilliant green,
The vines mostly go unseen.
Where branches droop of festivity,
Vines, eclipsed by seasonal treats.

Neither dewbeds of prosperous trees,
Nor dingy walls of clustered dreams.
But, where flowers bloom, wild and free,
You will find a vine like me.