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,

Standing firm.

Your branches stretch,

Reach out their arms, filled with leaves,

And small cups you fill with seeds,

For passers by.

Rustling below

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

I live.

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.


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