Under
The Weeping Willow
By
R.e. Taylor
She
waits and waits
It
has to be perfect
Frogs
croaking in the lake
Crickets
chirping in the forest
And
a warm sun
Not
too hot and not too cool
It
is just the right day and time
And
she found the perfect place
Under
the boughs of a willow
There
she writes her poetry
Her
stories and her songs
And
it is the place where she dreams
And
travels to so many different lands
And,
when the time comes
It
will be the place she is laid to rest
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