Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Sitting silently by the old willow tree, I heard a knocking through the thick, rustic bark. My thoughts drifted, thawing the frigid quiet in my mind. For there was naught behind, nor in front, of the old willow tree. "What could it be," my mind asked me. "And from where is it coming from?" And then, from above, there was a deep, low hum. A light flashed, and I was blind.
0
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
The Old Willow Tree
Sitting silently by the old willow tree, I heard a knocking through the thick, rustic bark. My thoughts drifted, thawing the frigid quiet in my mind. For there was naught behind, nor in front, of the old willow tree. "What could it be," my mind asked me. "And from where is it coming from?" And then, from above, there was a deep, low hum. A light flashed, and I was blind.
john-vd
Written by
28/M/American
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem