Vine Fetters

I walked through a vineyard once;

the vines’ branches snagged my feet.

Trapped, shunned, and stunned,

visualizing my helpless fall.

My shame, caught in a frame,

sun-scorched, rain-lashed, I'm to blame.

Cruel fate, a relentless hand,

no respite found, no promised land.

Halted midstream,

midlife's halfway point,

journey's midpoint found,

the old shed mocks me.

I'm stuck here, my feet rooted to the spot,

my shoes are gone, I can't go on, not

halfway there, I'm feeling withdrawn,

but I'll arrive soon, that's a given, I'm sworn.

I must shift my gear now,

as clinging vines mock my plight,

their leering gaze - a constant sight.

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