Weeping Willow

May 31, 2012
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A weeping willow bellows atop a grave;
Fatality lain in vanity.
Shadows mocked by fear;
Each branch repulsing the light.
Leaves are week to the tears;
tolerating fright.
A seed of acclamation;
a sheer mark of celebration;
Sadly lain in the hands of death: accomodations;
a plot for one,
Tainted with unforgiving marks of,

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hypermagical said...
Jun. 5, 2012 at 5:09 am
I was pleasantly surprised by this poem, and I enjoyed it very much. I also happen to have an obsession with weeping willows, so you got my attention with the title. You did a great job here!
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