To Build ...and neglect.




I build my house

out of wood.

I build it solid

and paint it brown.

It is a good house.

Strong and sturdy

it will be my shelter

and refuge from anything,

from everything,

for many years to come.


I built my house

then I plant a garden.

Fruit trees for food

shrubs for birds and birdsong

and as a barrier to cut the wind 

and flowers for beauty

and colour and as symbols of new life.

Then a vine starts to grow.

A vine I didn't plant.

It seems innocent enough,

I'll leave it...


Years pass and slowly,

inexorably and imperceptibly,

the vine begins to swallow my house,

to eat it.

Slowly my house changes

from solid, safe brown to vine green...

Just as slowly and imperceptibly

the garden becomes wild and dark

in proportion to the shrouded house.

Darkness creeps in...

and order quietly slips away,

like a cuckolded wife.


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There's more where that came from!