What is it about a vine coiling around a lamp post
That is so aesthetically pleasing?
They’re an unexpected pairing.
The vine,
full of life and bright green hues
Aspires to great heights.
The pole,
Strong and sound,
Stands grounded and firm.
Without the other,
The vine courses vexatiously along the sidewalk,
mindlessly tread upon beneath unpresuming feet.
And the lamp post is bare, rusty, and chipped,
Unnoticed to the passersby under its glow.
Together,
The post is ornamented and beguiling
And the vine is full and elevated.
But eventually,
The vine reaches past the heights of the pole
And tendrils wrap jealousy
Seeking reaches of the light,
It drowns it out.
And the pole
abandons the vine at that moment,
Leaving it unsupported,
Drooping,
Cascading back downward toward the earth,
uninspired.
I guess that's why we don’t talk anymore.