A vine is a vine
twirling upon the crispness of time;
developing it's own cascading story
from points of view and thy own eye.
Most growth by thy own choice
often strangling itself.
Finally untwining;
unwinding;
and then finding
that letting itself flow
is best for it's growth
At the end of it all
Looking back upon our garden of life
Shall we find a decaying mansion
smothered with vines?
Or shall we not look back
for we are so aware
that the vine that trails behind
is rich with new fruit
and the fruit never dies.
by Melissa Rubin
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