ivy tendrils race down my back,
an endless trail of love and tears.
leaves cling to me like no man will
or wants to after hearing my story.
ice cannot touch me this spring,
rain cannot wash me away,
and after all my time in this place,
some think i've gone astray.
maybe the majority is right,
but i'll fight them anyway--
turn me into bright red hues,
nothing gold can stay.

essence of me

(c) 2000 Krissi M.