That day neath an old willow tree

~

She stood neath a willow, soft golden hair flowing, 

her toes in the grass love to play

A smile enchanting, midst butterfly whispers

and river fern's emerald display

Her laughter in echoes, brings joy to the valley

as lily pads reach for the sun

Now counting the ripples of pebbles she's tossing,

just her way of having some fun

Where water meanders,  a silent crescendo,

as clear as a looking glass scene

Reflecting her beauty and clouds in the heavens,

as if in an art magazine

Her eyes like a Sunday with hyacinths blooming,

so blue that the sky hid from view

With marigolds sprouting on buttercream mornings

and daisies say, "How do you do?"

A hummingbird shivers in lines she recited

from poems she kept near her heart

As echoes continue beyond every stanza

in rhymes, it's the best way to start

Yes, she was the springtime, my life it was seeking,

that day neath an old willow tree

Right next to the streamlet that flows by the garden,

I wish she were waiting for me

~