</>A vine grew up around me.
It sounds fantastical, I know, but
It's true.
At first I liked it:

The way the little tendrils
Sneaked around my feet,
Encircled my ankles, and
Slid around my calves.

It tickled me as it laced
Around my thighs and
Crept through crevices to
Course over my torso.

Now it has wrapped round my neck,
And the little, sweet tendrils
Shoot in other directions,
Seeking other climbing places.

Standing there, I'd forgotten that
Those tender tips become
Strong and binding vines
That clinch ever tighter.

Ensnared.
Trapped.
I feel that I can not move.
Oh, I know that I can.