Here, behind this wall of greenery,
the scenery never changes.
It just grows and grows.
Ivy knows which end is up
until it gets so thick and heavy
it pulls away from its mount.
You can’t count on it for long.
It’s not all that strong.
But until the wall is rid of it,
it will be obscured by its breadth.
Like any ignominious death,
ivy draped and hidden.
(C) Walter J Wojtanik – 2018
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
Nice. English ivy lasts for centuries, darned stuff.
Saw the whole side of ivy which covered a building fall, leaving a “mold” of the edifice to which it was attached, and the brickwork looked so clean and freshly done.
Hopefully it didn’t eat away the mortar.
Love the way you ended this poem, Walt.
Thanks, Sara. I think it finished itself. I was pleased with it.
The church near me was literally covered in ivy….I’m certain it was affecting the brick. It was all taken down last fall. It looks bare this summer!
We get used to things and when the change even in the least bit, it could look stark in comparison. That’s so true, Lillian. Thanks for commenting, it’s good to hear from you.