Vine-Clad
The cottage down the lane had a big end-wall,
Beneath the gable,
Always covered in ivy, growing so tall,
As tall as was able,
Growing upto the eaves, to merge with the thatch,
Such a weight of leaves to the crown –
I’d wondered, how does it all attach ?,
How did it not pull the old wall down ?
Drilling-in through ev’ry crack it can pry,
And drinking the mortar dry,
Whatever it takes to reach the sky –
At least it sheltered from the wind.
But at what cost ? This cottage was built
With overbakes and wattled silt –
So which would be the first to wilt,
When neither was well underpinned ?
I waited years, but never did find out
The power in the growth –
For one hot night in the Summer drought,
A fire killed them both.
There’s a new-build cottage now, with a big end-wall
Whitewashed in lime,
With a single ivy runner – starting small,
But on the climb…
Rhyming Couplets 