Whisper soft the swaying branches
of a tearful willow
As she drags her delicate fingers
across the rippling surface of the silver pond
Oh, how Spring blossoms around her
like the comfort of a friend
The dandelions shake their manes,
And a robin whistles a tune he picked
up south
But listen close to the willow’s mourning,
her breath of sorrow
fluttering the tips of green grass
As to who would have ever thought
such a tree could have been in love
No comments:
Post a Comment