The vines crisscross the wall, stark and grey.
In spring you imagine, they will be covered in greenery
and the wispy vines will become invisible.
You are grateful for winter,
for all it allows you to see,
the underpinnings that hold the beauty of greener seasons
and become beauty itself,
About this poem
I am in a good place in my life. Getting here has taken me through the normal mix of joy and struggle, good times and dark, dark times.
I no longer feel the need to disguise the dark times. I have learned the beauty in them, and how they hold together the good, all one, no matter what it seems.