.
If you were an ivy vine
would you spread
across the foothills,
wind your way
through sharp pitched mountains
curling ’round
the fallen log
where it bridges the muddy slough?
.
Would you wend your way
around deep lakes and
through the tangled valleys
to the stand of trees
where you’d remember me?
.
And would you wrap
around my trunk and
spiral through my branches
as you followed every curve
to the top
where we both
could touch the sky?
.
And at noon
when you felt
the warm lips
of the sun
upon your leaves
would you sink
your comely roots
into my bark?
I think you’d grow on me.
.
.
(c) 2013, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post from 2013)