With its gentle, weeping branches
the sighing willow rests
among the tranquil, jade meadow
in a field of blissful pleasure.
The branches hang limp, but graceful,
sweeping, while barely touching the ground.
Its beauty is steeped in an unforgiving sadness,
as the branches long for the warmth
that summer brings.
The moist ground comforts
the heavily burdened trunk,
while the intricately woven roots
tangle through the ground,
in search of a drink.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
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Saturday, July 10, 2010
Weeping Willow
With its gentle, weeping branches
the sighing willow rests
among the tranquil, jade meadow
in a field of blissful pleasure.
The branches hang limp, but graceful,
sweeping, while barely touching the ground.
Its beauty is steeped in an unforgiving sadness,
as the branches long for the warmth
that summer brings.
The moist ground comforts
the heavily burdened trunk,
while the intricately woven roots
tangle through the ground,
in search of a drink.
the sighing willow rests
among the tranquil, jade meadow
in a field of blissful pleasure.
The branches hang limp, but graceful,
sweeping, while barely touching the ground.
Its beauty is steeped in an unforgiving sadness,
as the branches long for the warmth
that summer brings.
The moist ground comforts
the heavily burdened trunk,
while the intricately woven roots
tangle through the ground,
in search of a drink.
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