Willow
His every tempest he wrote in a journal,
His desires he wrote in its pages,
He said he'll do as the sages,
Make his desires a frontal.
He went with it to the woods,
When he was in low moods,
When he was saddled with gloom,
Awaiting a change and bloom.
The journal revealed his thoughts,
It bore his hurts,
It showed his sojourn through life,
It talked about his amiable wife.
The journal was found under his pillow,
On the night of his departure,
He titled it, “Willow”,
He was a man of modest status.
March 4, 2023.
Strand Premier No 1194 Poetry Contest,
Brian Strand.
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