• Echoes of the Willow

  • Feb 21 2024
  • Length: 10 mins
  • Podcast

Echoes of the Willow

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  • Echoes of the Willow In the hush of twilight's embrace, 'neath the willow's weeping leaves, Dwells a symphony of silence, as the heart quietly grieves. Its branches sway, a somber dance, in the whispering, chill breeze, Echoing tales of yesteryears, in the rustle of its trees. Once beneath this verdant veil, laughter filled the air, Children's footsteps, light and free, without a single care. Their shadows danced in sun-kissed glades, with joyous, unbound zeal, Now only echoes, faint and far, like dreams that once were real. The willow, with its mournful grace, stands sentinel to the past, Guarding memories, long since faded, too poignant to last. Here, where joy and sorrow meld, in the twilight's gentle glow, Lingers the ghost of innocence, in the river's ebbing flow. Mourning doves coo a lonesome song, as day gives way to night, Their melody, a haunting strain, in the fading golden light. Each note a pang, a tender throb, of times that slipped away, Leaving echoes in their stead, in shades of somber gray. Underneath the willow's boughs, where tears unseen are shed, Lies the garden of lost yesterdays, where we dare not tread. For each whispered leaf, each broken twig, tells a story, bittersweet, Of days gone by, of love and loss, of life's hasty retreat. So here I stand, in silent awe, of the willow's timeless cry, Its branches etching in the sky, tales that never die. In its shade, I find solace, in its sorrow, I find kin, As the echoes of the willow blend with the longing deep within.
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