There is a melancholy hanging in the air
that caresses my soul
and the birds perched on the willow tree
sound doleful as I stroll.
The evening mist that hovers around
is cool on my face,
The towering street lamps with their spectral light
guide me through the haze.
The owl perched outside my window sill
is watchful as I sleep,
The silver moon settles in the sky
as slowly nightfall creeps.
With heavily lidded eyes
I reflect on woebegone days,
when piqued with each other
under the willow tree, we parted ways.
The morning sun saunters in
bringing joyful cheer,
And in the bright lucent light,
for a moment, I forget my fear.
The birds up on the willow tree
joyously shake off morning dew,
But my world is silent once again
As I count my sorrows, two by two.
In my centre there is a heavy rock
that weighs down my heart-
-A lingering pain that seesaws
and wrenches me apart.
Under the mid-day sun,
as I walk under dappled shade,
I think of the Willow tree
Under which, as children, we played.
Twilight brings a calm
with its incandescent glow,
that settles a tumultuous storm in me,
and I eye the lake, still and deep, as men lazily row.
I wonder what my tomorrow will bring,
I wonder what will be,
But as I sit under the willow tree
I hold the reins of the person that I resolve to be.
CID
