You are my willow

My grand mothered willow

That speaks when the rains have come to stab their tears, for another year.

My willow, my cotton breeze willow,

You are so beautiful to me.

My widow, my storms whistled.

Here to me.

My willow my sweet cherry little, seed.

my pillow, when we find a home to leave.

My widow, like a spider on the window when the haze will not breathe.

Away from the willow's nest, you have come to sleep.

The wind has not come for me.

So dream of the storm to feel a touch at the creak,

The rocks have yet to hear. tales the moon has to hear.

I have come to keep, a story for the sol to peak.

Mountains must melt into green.