THE GRAVE BELOW THE WILLOW. (Calling to me.)

THE GRAVE BELOW THE WILLOW. (Calling to me.)

The breeze softly whispers to the weeping willow leaves
while the river listens carefully below them as it weaves.
The wind will always breathe the truth, and the river shall not lie;
the willow watches stately - rectitude will never die.

When I am alone in bushland, shrouded by serenity,
far from the troubled city, the wind blows peace on me.
I long to know its secrets and wish to learn its honest ways,
So I can stroll along beside them throughout my lifelong days.

The breeze keeps whispering to the weeping willow leaves
while the river listens carefully below them as it weaves.
The wind will always breathe the truth, and the river shall not lie,
I may rest beneath the willow - rectitude will never die.

© Harry Harper.