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.