Vine (an acrostic poem)

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Varicose veins climbed his legs like a trellis

It had purple blossoms of bruises to give that bit extra artistic something

Nothing he did seemed to help with the aches and pains

Except the thought of even at his age something of beauty was still growing within

Trail (an acrostic poem)

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The path through the trees split around one prominent trunk

Reaching that point, I paused and thought which side should I take

At a quick glance both seemed pretty well traveled

It left me a bit sad since I wanted to follow Frost’s advice

Leaving me but one choice.  I climbed the tree and my perspective was never the same again.