A Moment From a Conversation with a Willow
poetry·@therealpaul·
0.000 HBDA Moment From a Conversation with a Willow
<h3>Years ago, I told the willow that she should grow more upright, but that I loved her dramatic lean over the pond.</h3> <center></center> The willow was listening, I should've know she might, and she did grow a branch straight up, if but to please me, and spent a year or two doing it right. <center></center> <center><h3> I was the one who's friend was a tree, and I didn't want to see her fall.</h3></center> <center></center> Those were the days, I still insist, when we danced next to a windswept moon, when we both knew we had the same moonbeams whispering through our leaves and our garments, large and small. She must have known, and she must have known all along, that those graceful limbs would become dry and begin to crumble into the pool, she knows what she's doing. <center></center> <center></center> <center></center> Now, a deep pool of tears reflects the light back to me, and now, I see myself in the saddest future at last. When that old willow tree, she dies, she'll say to me, _do cry... you should cry._ She was right, and I felt the tears well, but she wasn't finished with me just yet. She whispered: _"...and I'm waiting for you now in a garden of bliss, in a morning glory cage, and here I will live as you blunder ahead, into a world where you'll fill a pool with future tears. Now I wait for you, here, while you dash away to visit a world where I am truly dead."_ The moon had been hiding in a thicket, and appeared on her words, just now. She'd called me back to dance again, and the songs had begun. <h3>_Then we were laughing together again, me and the old willow._</h3> ------------- _all photos here are mine, from 2009 to 2018, as the old willow gets ready to shed a few limbs, instead of falling into the water._ <center><h3>Click @therealpaul for more!</h3></center>