The Willow Tree


Here goes my second attempt at making something rhyme. I know poems don’t have to rhyme, and sometimes it’s nicer when they don’t, less corny, somehow…but I like it 🙂

The world around us is still turning, we are glad to see.
But it passes by oblivious to this stump that was once a tree.

It represents so much to me, an entire childhood spent
Dangling upside down from the branches that held a beautiful willow scent.

A flame burns inside my heart for this friendly, little place.
But eventually the rains came and what remains is just a space.

I stand here now,  feeling the earth turn beneath my feet, so fast.
No-one else will slow down long enough, and then the moment’s passed.

Soon it will be forced to retire earlier than I’d hoped,
“It’ll be 3 months before it falls, you know”, the surgeon scoped.

To me, it means the world and it’s brother, my whole foundation for life.
To me, it means my first kiss below the fading light.

To me, it means carving my name into the russet coloured bark,
To me, it means a safe haven from arguments in the dark.

This may be true for most of us, but here I shall remain,
Rooted to the spot (pun intended), feeling the earth spin fast again.

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