With willow roots and turf we intertwine;
Your eyes have locked us to this long embrace;
Your happiness in death is also mine.
Cold rain now spilling over, just as wine
Would flood my heart's confined and narrow space;
With willow roots and turf we intertwine.
And you and I here lie to life define
In ways too intricate to tread and trace;
Your happiness in death is also mine.
Joy sings above that heeds no bourn nor line,
Nor limits you to this, your golden grace;
With willow roots and turf we intertwine.
And through life’s years will love, e’er death, refine.
When neatly planted in this single place,
Your happiness in death is also mine.
Think on your nuptial vows, and mine, combine
Where fabric of love may weave its fragile lace.
With willow roots and turf we intertwine.
Your happiness in death is also mine!
Honorable mention
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Dee
