Vines

The sharp, green vines under the soft soil,

Slowly grow and peek up to see the light.

It wiggles and wiggles moving up to the surface,

The soil in its way but the vines will fight.

Eventually, filled up with determination,

The vines push up and camouflage with the green.

Bending down, the vine was could see,

A bright, blue beetle the size of a bean.

A squeak and a run, the beetle was gone,

The vine felt lonely, but had to keep going.

He wanted a friend, but he was too scared to scare,

Scared that everyone would go running.

He found a place to rest in the shade,

The tree stirred but didn’t get him muddy.

He stayed still and actually smiled,

At last, at last, finally a buddy.