The Willow Tree

A poem about the journey a child takes to his favourite place.

The golden sun shines down

on the fluorescent daffodils that

wave to me as I pass them by.

I run my hand across their heads -

stroking their yellow flames.

I carry on, and am welcomed

by the warm rouge of the roses.

The heart-warming reds mesmerize

me, and I glance down at the 

beautiful flowers, and notice the 

dangerously sharp thorns that

protect their fiery princesses.

I run along further, passing 

tulips that smile their purple lips

at me. I soon reach the yellow-green

willow tree, and rest underneath it.

I watch as rays of sunlight seep through

the gaps in the twisting fingers of the

tree and lay upon my face. The breeze 

picks up, and encourages the bending

branches to reach down and stroke my cheek.

Author's Note

Opinions please!