The Willow Tree

Sitting under the willow tree on a hot and gray day just passing the evening away delicate sounds of thunder rumble far far away watching the winds run and play the grass softly turns as waves in a Jade run while rolling hill’s laze a little white house in the middle of the planes small distant beyond all under a haloed sun dark at noon day, cooling gentle breeze as it carries a hint of fall on its way sitting under a willow tree besides a deep pond watching the ripples cast a wish upon each stone away watching every stone as they fall away my life passing the days away feeling an ancient House fluttering in the distant on milky white sands emeralds waters lap with the tears of forgotten life sitting under a willow tree on a dyeing hot brilliant day a dark shadow on horizon race tossing the stones of a heavy life away into a dark emerald pawn discarding the stains of my barren days here comes the raines again falling like a new emotion drop absently drip each ripple the moments of thought the house white haunted the lands where the wind turns on times Shifting Sands