Vines creep, sweetly spreading

The opponent unaware

Ivy knows the direction, to which She is


Fight the good fight, religion is the key.

She serenades

Softly, similar to a menace

Slow lingering kisses,

Determined to break.

That which recognises a woman

As Herself

Lost, nearly never to return

Weeping follows.

Weeping. Weeping. Weeping.

Sorrow, Ivy continues her journey.

Conditions worsen, terms to come.

Acceptance mirrors defeat, time.

Last words, a lifetime spoken in few,

Ivy embraces her vessel comfort

Her work is done.

She lies, waiting to die.

Present is a smirk, conveying all.

Happiness, entirety, peace.

Here on Earth on the day of black

A tear is present, displaying all

Weeping, so much weeping

The cancer, yet again has

Sung her song.

Ivy parts with the innocent,

Irreversible actions.

Earth, Ash.

The song of the dead.

**Credits to writer**
This piece is an original –written by the phenomenal Rhyanne Palmer. Rhyanne wrote this piece as a tribute to individuals who’ve lost loved ones to cancer. If you’d like to see more of Rhy’s writing check out her blog: http://www.dontletthemchangeya.wordpress.com 
Enjoy!! 🙂