Rosie by the river

Rosie by the river

Down by the river, dearest Rosie watches,
over 12m tall Grandma Willow stands.
She: a habitat of all kinds,
where ants reside in her roots and rabbits in her trunks.

Green is her over-flowing hair,
with brown strands to keep her fair.
Weather-beaten her face proves
while wrinkles steadily crease.
But still down by the river, dearest Rosie watches.

Smiling gently her face's a tease,
while 700 years she tells me she is.
Stormy days, firm she stands.
Sunny days, calm she stands.
Everyday down by the river sweetest Rosie watches.

A lullaby she sings as her tenants,
to sleep, are gently rocked.
Forever a smile she wears
but today, oh today, she seems atear (teary).
But still down by the river, sweetest Rosie watches.

"Grandma Willow?" The four year old asks,
sadly Grandma Willow looks.
"Goodbye" she shudders as she casts
her last glance. With that a beautiful rose, she gives...
But still down by the river, young Rosie watches