"Hello," she croons in her ever-dulcet voice
Soft, fragile, musical
Like the petals of a white rose
Dancing in the wind
The delicate flake perches on your ear
Soon ignites as flame disperses all over
What is this passion?
Kindling in your heart
You had promised not to submit
To these intoxicating sounds
But your carnal desires prevail
"Come to me, dear Willow," you whisper in reply
And accept with open arms her poison
But you are too late
For she has wafted away
Like the elusive flame on the surface
Of billowing waves
Dear Willow. Will-o-the-wisp.