Will of the Willow
poetic scribble by Bob Axell 2009


There is a willow
Down by the water
It does remind me
Of times that passed

It seems it swallows
All but tomorrow
All fears that bother
It mends the grass

That grow beside it
That try to climb it
It seems to playfully
Let them reach

Up on it's stem
Then it grows higher
Into the sky
And out of reach

All the children
They like to climb up
And it lets them
Sit on its branch

Beside the river
Of gritt and grime it
Leads it's own life
A steep romance

It doesn't wither
Though it grows old
It's thick roots slither
Deep in the cold

The soil that binds it
And there it stays
I'll think I'll visit
The will today