The Weeping Willow


In a time now long forgotten,
Which gave birth to a new young sapling,
Last seasons leaf litter, brown and rotten,
Reaching up in the crisp air of spring.

A long and hard life lay ahead,
Living through each and every season,
A hundred years or more ‘til your dead,
Your presence here has a reason.

Leaves, branches, twigs and bark,
As you once stood so proud beside the river,
Now you stand in silence, alone, bare and stark,
Your jaded limbs sway with an uneasy quiver.

Once majestic and beautiful Weeping Willow,
I shed a tear for you as I lay on my pillow.

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    This Poems Story

    The life of a weeping willow tree