The queen sat alone by the shore,
The withered willow in her hand.
Her love was named a folklore,
Written with the willow branch on the sand.
She longed to kiss her lover's lips
Under the longing willow tree;
When one day the willow branch slips-
And the love bound queen sets free.
The willow tree gleamed with bliss-
As the dead eyes looked across the abyss.
-Scar
YOU ARE READING
The Storm Within
PoetryThe Storm Within is the reflection of my inner mind. It is an escape from the realm of the living to the realm of feelings. It is a compilation of the chaos that silences the storms in my heart.
