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Willowi know a tree- so soft and ever swaying, within the wind's harsh fraying; or in the sun's light scorching, his bright and blinding torching. But still she goes on swaying, as if she were but praying, eternally in aching, yet never to know breaking.Willow
Upon the coldest nights, in ethereal lights, with silver shining gaze, that starts the soul ablaze; and freezes time it seems, as if it were but dreams, from those who would but sleep, in winter’s silent keep.
But still my tree is swaying, and fate it seems is playing, &nbs
by ~shuwal
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