Dreams of Ivy

The ivy had coyly snaked its way up the tomatoes. She knew she would have to cut it away but ivy always made her dream. There’d be a big mansion with a garden and tea parties and a pony that neighed on the hour. Wistfully she began to chop away at the ivy and it fell onto the neatly positioned stone around it. Her husband had brought in an expert to design it, in geometry, he had said but she thought it looked to rigid. In the end though she didn’t mind, her tomatoes still grew and she still dreamed.