The Ivy

The ivy comes, and chokes to death
A forest in its glory —
Shall we pass by and barely see,
And yawn, “the same old story”?

We hardly feel the difference
As boundaries are ceded —
The slow and the inexorable:
They’re almost undefeated

And then, it’s happening to us,
We find ourselves surrounded —
Why didn’t we do anything
When others were confounded?

The ivy comes, and devastates,
And does it without fuss —
And we had better kill it now,
Ere it takes care

Of us

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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