a beautiful willow

a beautiful willow bends in the rain
as the wind bears her down in response to her pain,
her limbs feel the pull of the long winter's wrath
that has stolen her sun, her blossoms, her laugh.
her leaves are now fallen, she groans in the night
and the grey morning mists persist to block light.
but I know she'll endure, and remember her pride
when her leaves readorn her, the Springtime's sweet bride.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

(for Nic, who deserves a poem for herself*** - my humble donation)