That stormy night, she watched from her bedroom window,

The aged leaves of ivy creeper struggling yet failing to hold on

To their dear life as the rain lashed out incessantly,

They fell one by one, a victim of nature’s evil supremacy.

She, a diseased soul, thought it was indeed true,

Imperious time will take me away mercilessly,

I will lie crushed, in a faraway land of no return.

I do nothing but wait for the final retreat like the ivy leaves.

Slowly, life ebbed away and death stood ready to start its journey,

The dark, menacing shadows danced that night in her final dreams.

Yet they broke into a run as morn came, its golden glow casting,

Its surreal smile on her pale face set a dying heart to race.

The sweet whispers of a silent breeze assured a new life

She heaved a sigh and opened her wistful eyes incredulously.

They wandered across to the ivy creeper to share its untold grief

At the loss of grace and beauty, a victim of grave animosity.

But Lo! A magical sight challenged her disillusioned mind,

“God’s Grace, thy child,” she murmured at the little leaf in the ivy lap

That the stormy night failed to dislodge and take on a fateful ride.

Happy and proud it danced at dawn’s promise of a new life.  

Thus she learned, torn or shrivelled a life may be, but thankful it's still there,

Shadows, though dreadful, can never stand the luminosity of a new morn.

A stoic and sturdy soul can hit the refresh button for a new, worthy life,

And be that ivy leaf, that clings on and grows, never submits to die.