i sit underneath the willow tree,
your head placed in my lap.
my fingers will run through your hair,
and i will hear your soft laugh.
i will look up into the swaying leaves,
and take a deep breath.
it is years later,
i sit underneath the willow tree.
your body is cold,
i run my fingers along it.
along your urn.
my fingers will tap
against the glass
that encases you.
i will pretend it's your laugh.
i will hold you forever, not set you down.
YOU ARE READING
the poems from the heart.
Poetryi write from the heart, words spill out as i type mindlessly, i love to write, and if you're like me, or even not at all. enjoy the words i share, and find love in mine.
