Outside
Stands a short,
Stone wall.
A lonely patch of gray
Peering out
Through the lush greenery surrounding it.
The plants surrounding seem almost as firm and strong as
The stone itself,
Though those closest seem to interweave with the very wall.
Green leaves preparing to change their color for autumn
Sprout from the cracks,
Vines seem to hang down
And slither in
And around the stone
As if they were snakes.
But there’s something else about the plants closest to the wall,
They seem wilted.
Some a sickly brown rather than a vibrant green,
Almost as if the plain,
Gray stone wall itself
Was sucking the life out of them.
Vying to take some of that vibrance for itself.