Weep for me willow
Loose and low
With aged tales
Of travellers
Tuned to the melodies
Of song birds
And sleepy streams
That sigh their way
Through the centuries.

Wave willow
With the winds of change
Root yourself
In soil as aged
As your dreams

A pen and paper
have always been my weapons of choice,
they helped me cope and come to grips,
they gave my sorrow a voice.

i kissed you
and tasted the light of the stars
& the apricot dawn all at once.
your lips had something wild in them
as if you were birthed,
from lightning itself
as if the sea had strung you together
from her most precious pearls.

He wrote me
wondrous
charmed with
child-like innocence
and soft
with safety

But close the book,
creak of wood
and crawl
of thieving
fingers,
off with the
innocence
let it settle
on the floor,
as stony cold
as all that
softness has become.

He wrote me brave
proud in the way
ladies
should be,
unafraid
and lovely

But turn the
page
and all is fear
and fretful
dreams
soak skin
to awakeness
when footsteps
mark the hall,
and rattles
turn to the
dooming click
of entry.
He hears
every silent
scream.

He wrote me defiant
unreliant on
conformities.
social standing
was just
weakness
dressed prettily

But end the
phrase
and compliant
limbs
fall exhausted
from the fight
and tear-stained
cheeks sting
rosy red
against the pain.