17/10/2024
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I sat under the looming willow tree,
As I’d done so much in the pase,
Each memory of my life glimmered in my eyes,
The willow’s tendrils strummed chords in my ears,
Soft echoes of a time when my chest was full.
Unmoving, my legs sank into the dirt,
As my fingers gripped tightly onto each blade of grass,
While my hair flowed in the wind,
Kissing my spine when it tired
My body still, as the winds began to change.
Seasons melted into each other, unnoticed,
My legs rooted into the ground
And my hands were cold and brittle,
The willows once lush tendrils, now tattered threads,
It’s leaves scattered, like forgotten pages.
Autumns rust yielded to Winters steel
And still I stayed.
I could no longer recall
The once prominent echoes.
The roots that held so firm began to fray,
And I wondered if I too would break away.
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