Thursday, 11 June 2009

Lullaby to a Weeping Willow

into the soft curve
of waiting
moonlight nestles
dawn sings a lullaby
and the fullness
of another hour
round with emptiness
calls my name

one foot forward
one lingering still
neither belongs

into the creeping morn
past the sleeping night
the breeze outside
blows nothing in
the trees keep
their secrets.
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