I picked a weeping willow.
And placed it on her pillow.
When she wakened from her sleep.
Her love i did reap.
No more her heart is unlovingly cold.
Her soul no longer black but coloured gold.
Now that willow no longer does weep.
I'm the shepherd and she my sheep.
- Author: Wallace ( Offline)
- Published: February 15th, 2018 02:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
Comments2
Beautiful write.
Thank you.
Wallace,
a sweet and short piece that tells a story in your heart
Michael 🙂
Thank you.
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