Climber
My love is not like a red rose
Nor is it like a gray stone
It is of another kind, another type
It is like a straight silver pole
Lapping it with my tendril I just stay and climb.
Description has gone somewhere wrong
It is neither ice cold nor is it hot like fire
It is just symbiotic in nature
The act of host I do not know
But I know for sure
I’m heavily dependent as a climber.
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