The Wisteria

A poem by Jennie Boyce

We forgot to prune it that winter,

and in the spring it grew in wild abandon

up to the roof,

tendrils entwined along

the balcony railings and windowsills,

Beautiful heavy clusters of mauve.

We closed our windows,

hostages to the unknown,

huddled indoors, hiding from

the dreaded unseen enemy. 

But outside was that promise

of freshness and renewal

and of a freedom to come.

One year on, and it is poised

to burst into flower again, 

its promise kept.

For this Springtime 

we too can emerge

to renew our lives, 

prisoners no longer.