Ivy

She sits still, gazing at ivy trailing the garden wall Verboten to seek any freedoms she saw Every motion and musing metered for eyes of all Her courage constrained to a cowering crawl Laced in by strange hands, her psyche is small existing in silence for her marriage bed's call Only distant sounds of townsfolk having a ball Dare not help her, no solace at all The ivy closed it ranks, shrouding the tired old wall She watched it grow and grow but took no action at all Even if she cut the branches, it would continue to crawl Pulling it from the root seems the only sensible call