Poetry

The Willow Tree

I keep going back
To the old willow tree
In hopes you’re looking for me.

There’s a rope tied to the
Branch near the summit
Where I hung you
Time and time again.

Each time
Like that Houdini guy
You’ve made it free.
Live another day
Moving away
From where I hoped you’d be.

I’m carrying stones
Back and fro
From the willow tree
Where you and I spent
All of our time
Pretending like it would
Never be called forth
All for free.

I don’t expect you to
Show up anymore.

It’s been a while.
Have you forgotten
How I’d laugh at your
half serious semi formed jokes
Each thought you
Verbalised
Could not hide
The multicolour tavern
Of your mind.

There has been no light
through the branches
Not anymore.

The tree is high
But I will strive
To make it to the highest branch.
Each twig and leaf that falls
sheds the weight
of what once was.
If the rope was meant for you
It’s good enough for me
At least it’s at
our Willow tree.

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Categories: Poetry

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