Weeping Willow

Twas the Fall that killed the summer

when leaves fell like tears

through chilled waves of despair

Winter’s breath upon the air-

Don’t paint the child’s playground

as a still-life void of glee –

and weep not as the Willow

for again it soon will be

Young buds now ride the school bus

so fast to grow and be -

in Spring will crowd the branches
of the stately family tree.

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