Poetry

To Fall Asleep Beneath a Willow Tree

He’s heading to the altar, but for what he will not say.
The path is lit with skeletons and candles along the way.
“Shush,” he says, “they’ll hear us, you creaking bones of mine.”
I used you poorly in youth, and with that, there comes a fine.
Those questions left unanswered are now better buried deep
Thrown away with other treasures like the promises I keep.

If a downy feather can fall and crush a worker’s home,
Can a day be as heavy as petty words and throwing stones?
A noose of stolen pearls and a ring made out of bone,
Copper, thread, and plastic never looked so fine alone.
Gold will never do as it’s too quick to welcome greed
Funny how happiness tends to favor smaller things.

The echoes of the cardinals singing carols in his head
Once white as winter tears, the world must suit him better red.
Dried from bitter seasons and whips with splintered ends,
Breezes come and go just as fast as numbered friends.
There’s never any meaning to initials scarred on bark
Any fool can carve an x, or put an arrow through a heart.

Regret has no end for those who choose to never see
“How bad I’d love to fall asleep beneath a willow tree.”

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2 thoughts on “To Fall Asleep Beneath a Willow Tree”

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