you have wept
long enough
dear willow
'neath dappled shadows
of cascading tears.
in soft-green sway
a thousand breezes
pressed kisses
between your leaves
whispering airborne
secrets
of all they have seen.
yet,
still you mourn
head bowed in humble restraint
no sound ever uttered
above a shy rustle.
as if you didn't know-
as if the breeze hasn't told you
a thousand times
in all the world
you are the fairest of them all.
© Copyright claimed 2007, Debra Marlar
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1 comment:
I like to think of Amy as the willow and me as the breeze.
But that'd be pretty damn presumptuous...that the willow would be weeping and mourning.
Maybe it's just about the weeping willow tree in the breeze. But in my mind, it's a beautiful metaphor.
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