You stood tall, strong and solid
as I passed you every morning
on the way to my studio.
Fungus grew around your base
but I never thought you’d die.
And now there is a gap
where you belonged
for many, many years,
long before we arrived.
You’ve seen loggers come and go,
generations of wildlife pause
beneath your shade
and ravens caw in passing.
No one took you down.
When your time came, you fell,
just a shudder
through the woods.
Now sadness hangs
where once you stood,
I miss you Mr. Willow.
©2018 Sharron R. McMillan
Hah, good one.
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So sorry for your loss. She will be missed. She, Willow, be missed!
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