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.