Monday, 25 March 2013


Everyone has them, even you.
They coil and twist through bones.
Tightening with every hug, every kiss,
Every soothing word, from the people
Youre bound to miss.
For the vines grow and hiss,
Past memories of bliss, feeding these vines
Of soon to be forgotten times.

You want to slice and shake them away,
These feelings of the past minutes and days.
But yet we continually find them
Cropping into the present time
Blocking our way,
You only wish to avoid a nostalgic day.
And then someone arrives,
A stranger, a surprise.
Loosening the vines
That clench and cling
to your spine.
They lay on the floor
Youre free from the
past, once more.
To breathe in a new start.

Your mind has reached the next
Of accepting Father Time,
And the emotional
Of being.

By Beth Brown