The Beautiful Deadly

The house is in no danger.
No matter that the vines grow wild
up its marble stone,
over the trellis, the columns,
reaching, always reaching
for a sky it can not obtain.

Today it is a thing of beauty,
an ornament, no more,
but
left unpruned
the artifice will consume you,
find the cracks in your stone,
and render you a ruin,
a curiosity for tourists and vandals,
and little more.

About this poem

Nurture the people and things that are important. The other stuff glitters, but in the end, kills the best of you.

Tom