Weathering the Storm


Beneath the willow, rain will never fall.
Yet when spring showers pour, I hide indoors.
So I ponder, what makes me feel this small.

When lightning strikes, wait for thunder to call.
Baggage you cherish may drop to the floors.
Still, beneath the willow, rain never falls.

From time to time winds will roar, rattling walls.
although they have strength, imagine them more.
So I ponder, what makes me feel this small.

Fond moments linger in frames through the halls.
What once was so hopeful, now is unsure.
But beneath the willow, rain never falls.

After endless sorrow, feelings so raw;
a realization shook straight to the core.
So I ponder what makes me feel this small.

You can weather the storm, but after all;
lurks the risk that you will drown once it pours.
Yet beneath the willow, rain never falls.
So I ponder what makes me feel this small.

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