Under The Willow

Under the willow,
I lay tonight.
My bed the bark,
My pillow the trunk,
My shelter the canopy.

Under the willow,
Where water quietly lapped
Against the bank,
While I sank
To the root.

Under the willow,
I looked out across
The man made mirror,
Through an overgrown fringe,
Swaying briskly in the wind.

Under the willow,
The air did smell sweet
Enough to eat.
Filtered by leaves,
Tickling my skin.

Under the willow,
My heart breathed freely
Without any weight.
Away from the familiarity,
Of an impossible dream.

Under the willow,
The hands of time
Were on my side.
Holding me in a minute,
All of my own.

Under the willow,
I watched as night folded
Over the sky above.
And when it was dark enough,
I kissed you goodnight and left


Written 8th July 1995
Copyright Nicholas Treadwell 2001