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bastard_monkeyPoems
Beneath the sallow, At break of the night He waits, The moonlight dusted upon his pale Fickle Skin Periodically, of course For no longer than a second Does the mark of silvery light Linger in one place, Most of it pushed aside By the gambolling tears of green Wept by the weathered Old Sallow’s skeleton grown up into the sky.
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May 11, 2021
May 11, 2021 at 6:02 PM UTC
the sallow
Beneath the sallow, At break of the night He waits, The moonlight dusted upon his pale Fickle Skin Periodically, of course For no longer than a second Does the mark of silvery light Linger in one place, Most of it pushed aside By the gambolling tears of green Wept by the weathered Old Sallow’s skeleton grown up into the sky.
For context, a sallow is a weeping willow. Considering the other meaning of the word, I thought that made it even more dreary of a tree. The poem has nothing to do with this, I was just bored.
bastard_monkey
Written by
bastard_monkey
somewhere in monkeyland
May 11, 2021
May 11, 2021 at 6:02 PM UTC
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