The Willow In Spring

memories bud from long ago of that hill near the sea under that willow tree where she had plucked that koto and sang a bittersweet song full of both love and pain like the first of spring rain that cruel winter did prolong and blood that fell from her hand staining the grass below for the sake of her show like feathers plucked with each strand now the willow is in bloom again while she plays for the first time since then

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Written by

cynicalwhitekid

Austin

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