Beneath The Willow Tree.

A muffled sigh
By the lakeshore,
Echoes in the quiet hour
Like a lone owl’s cry.

A bruised soul,
Bluer than the day sky
Awaits the night
In need of succor.

The willow tree weeps
For my wicked agony.
It reaches down to me
With its whispering leaves.

I see my reflection
In the melancholy
Of this grieving tree,
An innate connection.

Now the night is nigh.
And while the old Sun drowns,
My bitter heart scowls
At his woeful plight.

I cringe in the shadows
Of the dangling branches,
And fade into the darkness
As it slowly falls.

We are one,
The willow tree and I.
Beneath the godless sky,
We are all alone.