Well

I see smooth and shining silk
Twirling and wrapping and
Climbing and creeping up
Something the soft brush of a robin's back.
I see a cold, stone pole with
Gaps, and
Cracks, and
Everything in between the two
Dangling from above.
I see hard and uniform squares
They sound like a small twig being snapped
Over and
Over.
Well.
The answers?
A silk-wrapped tree
A pillar cracked at the top
And the keys on which
I typed this poem.