The Old Vine

The Old Vine prose poem

Photo by iadk

The red brick wall was old and cracked,
but still was strong and active;
all covered by a tough old Vine
that made the wall its captive.
Each year in Spring,
the vine grew leaves of green and tiny flowers,
a beauty even more when hit with April showers.
Blue birds would join the Vine each year
to do their season’s nesting,
and live there till their newborn babes
had finished all their testing;
then off they’d fly into the sky in search of lofty places,
with fondest memories of the Vine and all its many graces.

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Warren P Padla

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majored in journalism at NYU in the 50s; received my masters in business from there and worked for Equitable Life in NY for many years. When retired entered antique business and real estate; retired to Massachusetts and Florida; currently do a lot of volunteer work. Friends forced me into poetry due to much writing I had sent to them over the years. So I joined High On Poems. the end, warren
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Preeti
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The beauty of the poem lies in its patient description of a thing oft neglected, the vine….Beautiful!

wpDiscuz

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