Weepers to the Willow
The whispering willow has never touched my eye,
But she brands my ears with her secrets.
The way her words taunt my perceptions,
As she paints love’s bleakness.
The wind of her breath fills the grooves in my brain,
And drugs me poisoned with delusion.
Her tales of broken hearts are a warning,
She speaks to me as if she’s human.
I close my eyes and hold up an ear,
While she sings the weepers’ sorrows.
The misfortunes of others stain her breath,
She says she sees my future through a window.
They sit against her brute roots,
And sob their sorry stories.
Howling how love is foredoomed,
As she listens to another cry shortly.
If you find the willow tree,
Burden her with your troubles.
Tell her of your miseries,
But be warned, she will tell me.
What’s one more person we must grieve?
