Clinging Vine by Kristina Woodhill odd moments find me visiting old houses where I’ve lived one shack not quite yet boarded up nor finished burning down the path to it much harder now to find within my mind the vines are growing nicely and you have to love a vine for its down to earth ability its natural proclivity to cover tracks not look back and move on down the line still I have a perverse knack to prune to view within my younger shadow straining arm pulled back tired from the grasping of one hand weakly clasping still tethered to that rack and though the leather tether has become a silken scarf the smell of tanning stirs my mellowed mood disturbing in its pungency aware still of its potency and begs that tired old question who or what is grasping whom rooted lessons flourish paths are level and repaved feet’s grit and grime so gently and so humbly washed away I pray this clinging flotsam from a shipwreck long restrained is simply there to teach me not because I love the pain 09/07/2006 Posted on 09/08/2006 Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill Member Comments on this Poem Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 09/08/06 at 02:27 AM Hi Kirstina. Enjoyed this. Really like the passage: "still I have a perverse knack to prune to view within my younger shadow." Thanks. Posted by Michael Faraday on 09/11/06 at 02:49 AM well said poem! Enjoyed it. cheers, m Posted by Ken Harnisch on 11/02/06 at 05:47 PM Damn...that last verse is priceless, moving...Dare i say profound? I said it! Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)