contest... A Vine in Winter... sponsor Craig Cornish
My heart won't cling to you like a vine holding on, wrapped around yet, like a vine that felt your winter's breath my rich garden of tendrils turned brown as the stem of love died the trestle of my heart is bare and wanting stripped of flowers and leaves, crumbled cast to earth I'll unwind my dead tendrils and leave your empty trestle to another where your winter's breath is waiting
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