the willow tree

He walks beside the willow tree

the shade is sure his friend

the road seems long and far away –

will he ever reach the end

The sparrow chirps above his head

the grass, so green, below

the stream awash with dancing sun

he sees its ebb and flow

How long has willow been there

will she ever go away

or is her place by stream in park

his shaded overlay

She spans so many moons and then

he holds life – all his own

and sits upon unwelcomed crown

discarding what he knows

Her broken twig will reproduce –

no urgency or haste

holding the crown he puts it down

the tree has time to wait

She passes time – for who; she asks –

beneath you, the ghost chimes

she looks below and with a glow

grasps him in weeping vines.

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