Do not seek me
beneath the willow tree
that once bequeathed
her leaves generously,
the browning birthed from earth
that used to be a beautiful green sheen.

She is gone recently
and I am still grieving
the loss made by those thieving
loggers.

You may look in old books,
and find my essence in
the sentences therein,
such sweet blessings
that sang my mind into being.

But do not search the loud
obnoxious crowds
of crowing fools
who act like tools.
I will not be one among
them.

While they are sleeping,
I am awake dreaming,
and thinking;
Elusive to this abusive world.
So, you might as well
go find yourselves,
cause I prefer
to be an introvert.