Willow

There was a little girl who was conceived by a weeping willow tree. Each day she grew taller like the roots that lie beneath the earth, she became more gracefully beautiful like the leaves that swayed in the gentle breeze, and each day she would swing back and forth from those strong vines and sing:

“Willow, Willow

I saw a young fellow

Who looks at the world and only see me.

Willow, Willow

His voice is so soft and firm when he speaks

He says I’m prettier than a gold ring.

Willow, Willow

His lips are like butter that I wish to nibble

His eyes are brown like your bark I see.

Willow, Willow

I like this fellow, you see

I like to make him bleed.”

I know this may seem strange but I honestly just wrote what first came to mind, I had to keep reading it over myself to understand the meaning, I guess you could say I wrote it subconsciously.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A interesting poem.
"Willow, Willow
I like this fellow, you see
I like to make him bleed.”
I like the flow of thoughts and the use of the willow. Had the feel of myth and tale. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote