I had to walk the nettles barefoot
and yes the brambles grabbed my legs.
My path was not an easy one,
I drank both tea and dregs.
Solid ground shifted unknowingly entwined
into the path of least resistance
when my perception was but blind.
I faltered one step and more
the drunken path of fools,
enlightened by your words
you gave me all the tools.
Broken in a picture frame
which screamed one time “be free!”
Where stood a silhouette,
which once was you and me.
A birth of tree time spurts.
The roots, each blade of grass,
Together form the picture
which has worked out at last.
The light shines through the window.
The frame no longer strange.
The panes transparency ignites
as we begin another page.
Copyright G.P Williamson 2014