The Death of the Williow
When the wind whistles
through willow branches bare.
While rustling its tousled yellowed hair.
The death of the willow so forlorn in sight.
Has passed through his prime of life.
He pines for what is lost and forgot,
while he sits alone to rot.
He live not forever like his neighbors be,
but dies in spite of all our efforts and pleas.
The time when he was so beautiful a tree,
as all in the land would happen to see.
Is gone and never will we see this
beautiful, beautiful, willow tree.
Copyright © Samantha Hildrig | Year Posted 2016
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