The weeping willow wept and withered.
Lovers swore their love, carving hearts.
Initials replaced her perfect bark.
Pains of loves or lost loves embarked.
Each time young lovers sat beneath her bows,
She watched kissing and tender touches.
Then, out came the knife … OUCH!
Written for ONE of FIVE-70 words or less - Poetry Contest Sponsored by Laura Loo
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2017