This is the poem that is never finished. I must have written about 20 stanzas and have never settled on a version I am happy with.
This is a much shorter edited version, with a more positive tone than some previous incarnations.
It explores co-dependency in relationships.
As an oak tree you stand,
Still young, but with a magnitude near ethereal,
As your trunk renders you immovable,
Your branches stretch,
Reach out their arms, filled with leaves,
And small cups you fill with seeds,
For passers by.
I creep, a vine along the dark, wet ground,
Dark leaves, where no nutrients are found
My roots are starved.
Until my tendrils thouch
Your soft, green mossy trunk of oak
I reach up to grasp, not choke
Steadily, as a vine I climb
I cling to knots, sap moisture, drink up dew
And I bear fruit, something you, an oak could not do
We grow together, as two.