The Willow Laughed – A Poem

Don’t account for that morning.

A south wind blew but brought no promise
of deliverance.

Summer had covered us in a lunatic charade of love.

A chill hovered over your bare skin, a pale protective aura.

There where the willow
I found God
to be powerless
except for in
those small meaningless moments of tender compassion.

You shifted your arm and leaned your shoulder into me.

In a blighted gown the sun crept over us.

I tasted the blood in your lips as the shadows fluttered
on the grass
and craved even more for that subtle parting.

But in our haste to preserve a timeless moment
unraveling before us
we gave allowances to each other
to console the turbulent imaginings
of youth’s naked want.


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