A willow vine in the breeze,
winding
as random prose is wont to do,
cluttering a mind's shape.

See, with an askance glance,
a couple's kiss against the green,
the twine of feelings,
tightening.

Feel,
the love sickness,
slow movement and
the change,

the leaves, twisting
into serif knots,

into
bruised fists

and other
fanciful shapes,

then look away.

#poetry #writing #tashpoetry