if the earth was a willow
|
and you were one too
|
-would earth be weeping
|
so gentle and so true?
|
if I was the garden
|
whereas you could grow
|
-would you hand me your branches
|
and grant me your love?
|
|
in between the lines of your story-flowing through
|
the pages of a book so well prepared
|
the words leave more than ashes from your pencil
|
when it speaks of tiny stories
|
that happened through these years
|
|
I swear that your present reality
|
-disillusioned obscurity?
|
-will gently wipe away the tears
|
of wasted seeds
|
|
how can we go through this
|
-with wounded wings before we learned how to fly
|
how can i control desires
|
-when desire burns on a chilly autumn Night?
|
|
I will try and make you imagine;
|
the aura where they stand
|
is filled with little secrets
|
-as written in the sand
|
Naked as a child at birth
|
a question in disguise
|
an oasis in a lonely desert
|
where lonely unknown lands lie
|
|
from here and into (infinity)
|
-humble and timeless philosophy
|
-you gently wept away the tears
|
of wasted seeds
|
|
all the days that have left me
|
and the species I have seen
|
ahead days will follow
|
-it was only a dream
|
though my garden is growing
|
under skies out of blue,
|
and it changes each season
|
both in colours and in truth
|
|
you should know that a willow
|
-a weeping bed's pillow-
|
...
|
until all days are through
|
|
rain that fall on your branches,
|
Yearning for a source to feed it's primal need
|
can maKe your beauty blossom from within
|
with flowers blowing in the wind
|
-and in seasons to follow....
|
|
-----------------
|
Weeping Willow
|
| In the Woods |
