Telling a story
Of a nameless girl
Waiting for her love beneath a willow tree, ever so silently
Its branches consoling, not unlike a mother's arms.
Crying softly from time to time
Praying she hear little
Hear nothing of her dear sweetheart's death.
The world for her isn't black or white
But colors twirled up all together.
Gold, the leaves that tumble to the cold ground
With each sorrowful day that does pass.
At a level, oh, so intertwined
Right and wrong were all the same,
Her eyebrows knitted together in doubt
A scarf of sadness disturbed only by fear.
And, finally, came a moment
when her heart fluttered in her chest
A panicked bird demanding freedom from its cage, was what it was
When that veteran ran, yelling, into town.
Ran, yelling, with a tale of a young soldier – no older than twenty-three –
That brought all who beheld the memory to tears.
How he died for his love?
How his last wish was to hear her pure laugh, sweet and clear?
And she cries, then, truly, letting emotion slide its way out
Not an ounce of fight within her, the epoch had, at last, come.
Her hope crushed, weeping underneath her willow tree profoundly
Heaving body-racking sobs
Until she draws in her last breath,
Laying down against the tree's trunk in death
Picture perfect, and worth a thousand words.