tagNon-Erotic Poetrya willow bending

a willow bending


I found a bag of babies
buried 'neath a tree
a grand and sweeping willow
near a stream

in a nightmare, wrapped in green
a cotton weave
of smoke and fog and gleem

an orange moon
rose and spoke
like God and snatched the bag away

in the nightmare
not the dream

I was helpless, willow swayed
bagged up hidden, stored away
like dusty bottles filled with change
saved up for a rainy day

re-posted for Boo who always loved it so much

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byMaria2394© 1 comments/ 1119 views/ 0 favorites

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