The Willow’s Sentiment

Willow, Willow, I stare upon your worn and weathered face,
How you hold your cherished leaves in a soft and sweet embrace.
Lissome in form, body entwined but strong,
Basking in the delight of a distant nightingale’s song.
Enchanted by you, my mind is enthralled,
As if you speak to me personally, your memories are recalled.
Jaded maids who slept in your shade from the midday Sun,
Thrushes built nest in your branches to nurse their young.
Illuminated by the pale, blue moonlight,
A rendezvous point for forbidden lovers at night.
And all alone in the bleak Winter’s snow,
You still sheltered the traveller who had far to go.
Willow, Willow, oh how you quietly observed,
And relinquished the company, without utterance of a word.

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