FROM MY DECK
From the view of our deck stands the Willow tree,
With weeping shadows as the wind sets her free.
In the night's light she doesn't seem like a tree,
But appears like a dancer bending at knee.
Hearing only the slightest rustle, the wind stirs her leaves,
Like a gentle shaking from a gentle breeze,
No other tree moves so freely in the wind,
Like the mighty Willow that never breaks, only bends.
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