The old withered willow dreams of the coming of Spring

her barren brown branches long for leaves

some yellow,some green

the countless tiny dancers

will sway in the cool afternoon breeze

 

Young lovers carve promises of forever

on her bottom

as they wish for an endless Summer

shes all the while knowing

as their love was growing

it will soon be Autumn

 

Just as the night must begin

the sun must set on this dream

that she holds tender

a slow cold wind

reminds her again

that its the dead of Winter.