Tangled Vine Poem by Cee Bea
Tangled Vine
they looked at me through
a mist of curiosity and kind nature
there is no abundance.
only enough,
that in itself…is a pinnacle
there is no finite nature
or concave octaves
nor certainty
but there is the wind
and angel clouds
appearing in pressing west winds
as if placed by hand
the old growth was…
the giants yawned
and stepped right in my path,
I know it.
alls fine at Hollywood and
tangled vine
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5/13/2024 9:30:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I enjoyeyour poem. Thank you for sharing.