I wonder

He’s always there
When I look up
Standing
Staring straight back at me
He has no eyes
But still he pries
Into my life.

Today he’s just a silhouette
Framed by my window
He dominates my point of view
His body wrapped in a blanket of ivy
As he reaches outwards and upwards
Some others copy the fashion
But it fits their weaker frame less well

I wonder how many are his relatives?

He’s older than me
Older than my home
Older than the others of his kind
He’s a survivor

I wonder if his mother can see him now
If she watches him each day like me.

I wonder if his relatives are close
Creating soil by recycling old clothes.