Awoken by rays and rain breathes life in me,

Underground sleep just until the light is seen,

The planted crops grow and feed all of our life,

Resembling the rows where we live and subside,

 

Incandescent glow is on and I greet myself,

This existence that covets material wealth,

The rows of the houses, people just waiting,

For a chance to advance towards escaping,

 

I don’t want to be dying on the vine,

Dropping off the tree,

Rotting in the ground,

Never to be freed –

Just to share in the vintage – impassioned potential sparkles at the brim,

To give years of health in places where it is seldom seen,

We all must wait, for generations to succeed,

 

The sharing of moments, is not allowed here,

To our fever and fret the end is always near,

The cold leaves in the autumn shake and then fall,

Through the wet ground below, seeded rivulets crawl,

 

In the ice in the end with our hopes frozen cold,

The thoughts glisten and may drip pointedly bold,

No excuse for children not to go out and play,

Even the vast silence is buried today,

 

Soon the subtle sun reaches up to the branch,

Pulling down expression dormant in the plants,

Grasping at the sprouts, felt clear down to the roots,

A new growth begins – the transition is never smooth,

 

I just want to be growing on the vine,

A strong part of the tree,

Rising from the ground,

Providing what I need