Willow Tree

On a shore by the edge

of a dark gray pond

muddied with misery and introspection

their grows with roots deep

into the clay covered bank

a tree of willow and pity.

It sits as it thinks

under overcast skies

about worlds and their wives

passing it by.

It stands there and grows

over the pond

but somehow it never

grew beyond.

As millennia and eons

slowly tick by

it leaves its home

but only in mind.

It locks its knees all hard

and tight

and it waits

oh it waits

until the shadows of night.