A Vine in Winter
Withered wishes
lick the sap of spring
and loose all they've held,
except all that dared to
winter in a heart
that clings where hope's
tendrils grow tired and
brittle
and still ~ in their final
vestige of existence,
braved the relentless frosts
and hold firm,
even in their death,
the supple youth that will
bear the fruits of
another season...
Copyright © Craig Cornish | Year Posted 2025
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