Dying on the Vine: Rob Russell

Dying on the Vine

A chemical reaction that some might call attraction

And others term a fire in the mind

Makes me yearn for your embrace

Each time I fail to replace you

And the fruit of my desire starts to die upon the vine

If who you know brings what you get, and who knows you is who you let

Believing in that feeling without waiting for a sign

Then you’re reaping what you sow, as your mind begins to grow

But if you’re tardy with the harvest

Still it dies upon the vine

When stealing to get feeling is a life that feels appealing

And honest feels like weakness and a wankers waste of time

Then divine intervention brings the greater scheme to your attention

And the clarion call of thrilling crime

Slows and dries inside the vine

When the summer stops its flow and the lucky ones get up and go

Leaving others greatly hindered to stay and face the winter

And with nothing left to say to you

There’s nothing left for us to do

But watch the fruits of summer day by day die on the vine

The girl on the train who has occupied my brain

Since she minded the gap and opposite me sat

Walks away and up the stairs with my eyes upon her hair

And is that hint of red, cause for regret?

Is the question that looks on, as the death toll clicks up one

Thanks Rob, the melancholy here certainly reflects the season in the UK with leaves turning to reds and golds, sap withdrawing and the energies shifting into winter rest mode.

Love and changing light 

Lindsey