A shadow creeps onto the wall capturing the sun’s rays.
The vine shivers in the cold and for the light it prays.
The vine reaches up to the sun calling its name aloud.
The shadow stands still, the shadow of a cloud.
“Sun! Sun!” cries the vine, “Give me back the light!”
It withers with a sorrow and calmly comes the night.
The clouds collide with others; their thunder chases the wind
The vine looks up with hope, only rain the cloud did send.
In the coming morning, dew set upon its leaves.
The vine stands still, it cries and it grieves.
The sun looks down upon it with confusion in its eyes,
“Why do you cry, my vine? Didn't you know that I would rise?”
The vine looks up with a dewy tear,
“My sun when you are away, I truly fear.
You left me to the cold of the night.
Without you I am filled with such a fright.”
“My vine, do not fear. I raised you from a seed,
I would never leave your side and will provide what you need.
You may fear when I am gone each and every night.
But, my dearest vine, I tell you,
You need the dark and rain as much as you need my light.”
