Weep: It's a Love Story
Two trees hunker side by side,
Their branches entangling.
Complicated love.
She is small, with a leafy skirt. Folds of fabric curl up on the ground.
Her skirt is a shelter if you can get through the layers of green ribbons.
There is a whole new world underneath.
She takes risks and the others take advantages.
It isn't the smartest way to hurt.
A hand fondles her hair and her clothes,
But she brushes it off as her body shivers. Wet. Cold. Rain.
She is beautiful, but she weeps.
The other tree has a strong body and long, muscular arms
But he is gentle. The smallest find their homes in his trunks and on his branches.
He is strong. His arms enveloped her.
Cover me in your scent
Let me breathe in your beauty
He is tall, but yet not tall enough, to shield her from the rain.
Sometimes he must be cut to grow bigger and stronger again.
Women learn from heartbreaks but men from breaking hearts. This time he says:
I will stay, I will grow.
Grow tall enough to cover you from the pain.
When the wind comes they cling to each other.
Don't ever let me go
When the sun comes back they don't want to let go.
I'll never let you go
If the lightning strikes they both will suffer, but they cannot be apart.
She drapes over him because she is weary
He holds her up because he is strong.
I will never let you fall.
I will never let you fall.
No one knows how long they'll last.
Pain is long but love is fleeting.
In the end, a willow must weep.
Willow weeping willow.
She has let her heart grow long and tired
The wind has played with her skirt
The rain has seeped through her skin
The lightning has threatened her with his blows
She cannot go back to her age of innocence
When her cheeks were flowery and lush
And her curves fresh and smooth
Together they are
A complicated masterpiece
A combination of beauty and brawn
A love story
That starts at the roots
And doesn't end until the lightning strikes the sky
The oak still holds the willow, forever fits of sleeping.
The oak is there, memory keeping.
His back hunched, bark is chipping as he breaks beneath her weight.
It's his turn, the strong oaks turn.
For weeping. Weeping. Weeping.
Their branches entangling.
Complicated love.
She is small, with a leafy skirt. Folds of fabric curl up on the ground.
Her skirt is a shelter if you can get through the layers of green ribbons.
There is a whole new world underneath.
She takes risks and the others take advantages.
It isn't the smartest way to hurt.
A hand fondles her hair and her clothes,
But she brushes it off as her body shivers. Wet. Cold. Rain.
She is beautiful, but she weeps.
The other tree has a strong body and long, muscular arms
But he is gentle. The smallest find their homes in his trunks and on his branches.
He is strong. His arms enveloped her.
Cover me in your scent
Let me breathe in your beauty
He is tall, but yet not tall enough, to shield her from the rain.
Sometimes he must be cut to grow bigger and stronger again.
Women learn from heartbreaks but men from breaking hearts. This time he says:
I will stay, I will grow.
Grow tall enough to cover you from the pain.
When the wind comes they cling to each other.
Don't ever let me go
When the sun comes back they don't want to let go.
I'll never let you go
If the lightning strikes they both will suffer, but they cannot be apart.
She drapes over him because she is weary
He holds her up because he is strong.
I will never let you fall.
I will never let you fall.
No one knows how long they'll last.
Pain is long but love is fleeting.
In the end, a willow must weep.
Willow weeping willow.
She has let her heart grow long and tired
The wind has played with her skirt
The rain has seeped through her skin
The lightning has threatened her with his blows
She cannot go back to her age of innocence
When her cheeks were flowery and lush
And her curves fresh and smooth
Together they are
A complicated masterpiece
A combination of beauty and brawn
A love story
That starts at the roots
And doesn't end until the lightning strikes the sky
The oak still holds the willow, forever fits of sleeping.
The oak is there, memory keeping.
His back hunched, bark is chipping as he breaks beneath her weight.
It's his turn, the strong oaks turn.
For weeping. Weeping. Weeping.
I love this one... very heartfelt and creative; I hope to see more like it ;)
ReplyDeleteThank you :)
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