I sit staring
blindly
at the flowers climbing
up
the wall, grasping the bricks
with tensile tendrils of vibrant vines through a tenacity
never ending.
The splash of vivid violet contrasts
against the dull drab stone,
while green leaves
lighten the darkness of shadow
as the sun swings its path toward dusk.
Too soon the blooms will die in the dark,
for my eyes will no longer view
once the light disappears for another spell of night
without flowers seen.
This poem is in the Pi poetry form. Sixteen lines are formed by a set number of words per line: 3, 1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 6, 5, 3, 5, 8, 9, 7, 9, and 3.
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