Willow trees that droop and sway
catch the rain, cushion the fall
filter the sun, make it clear
shade my thoughts, dim dim dim
A lightbulb covered in dust
the moon between the trees
pixelated xeroxed photographs
incomplete and so it fails
Willow trees that guide me home
wind my path and make it long
trip me when I am rushing
catch me when I collapse
Acceleration is its own magic
but braking sometimes fails
yield to those above you
and conquer those who do not care
Willow trees that hide me well
forget me not in my last days
keep my memories for my good
they do me no good at the present
Verbalize via keyboard
Comments
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Ah, I was right.
Your writings do have the musings of an old soul.
Every once in a while I'll read someone's writings that make me feel like I'm in an old house, in the attic, flipping through old books as the sunlight breaks through a small window.
Your words make me think of this and the feel of your writing makes me think of that old attic.
Had not read someone like that in a while.
Beautiful imagery.
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I like willow trees. Maybe Im odd?
You get three clapping smileys, for a good poem.
Joe
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