Life on life's terms

Poetry maybe

Join me tomorrow under the willow tree on old man Jenkins farm.

You know the one broke my arm? Remember what you told me that day?

Asking me to stay with you there because you were afraid?

I can remember what you wore and your hair in that braid.

As you read this today I must be in the ground under that willow.

Waiting to hear the sound of your voice.

After fifty years that tree has grown as my love for you has done.

When your life has ran long and your tears dry remember meet me under that good old tree!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: