Willow Me (A Sonnet)

Willow Me

Interred within the soil of youthful prime
A willow seed lies sown in dormancy,
That with the daily watering of time
Grows old and dies, a withered, weeping tree.
And years are petals on the bud of life
That when she blossoms unfold to display
A sapless flower; her petals, passed and rife,
Hang virtueless, bereft of sweet bouquet.
Yet what possesses virtue, worth or reason
Save framed within this frail mortality?
Or whence derives one’s passion for the season
If not from this temporal symmetry?
And if in life I find a love to cherish,
Then I shall gladly live and love, and perish.

Weeping Willow by Claude Monet Click Image to visit WikiPaintings.org

Weeping Willow by Claude Monet
Click Image to visit WikiPaintings.org

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5 thoughts on “Willow Me (A Sonnet)

  1. Sonnets are my favorite form of poetry to read, and you do it so bloody well. I could lay in the cool grass under a drifting sky and read these all day.

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