Tangled vines, shriveled tendrils that pull me down,
wrap themselves around my heart, crushing any joy held there.
Lacking any life of their own, they drain the same
from me, choking my will to fight their grasp.
There is only darkness in grief’s garden.
This is my response to How Does Your Garden Grow – dVerse Quadrille —
the prompt from Victoria at dVerse ~ Poets Pub, which is to use the word garden
in a 44-word poem, with no required meter or rhyme.