Beneath the willow tree I rest
and marvel at all its leaves have seen
Memories incarnate
of when this was meadow
filled with flowing flowers
and honey bees
Along the trail I ride
as the deer
sprinting beside me
wild and free
And I wonder
basked in the doe's glowing glory
how many have beheld
her majesty
Close enough to touch
i wonder
how many have seen the life
in her blinking eyes
And how many
only know her
as a red stain
upon the asphalt
Sitting amongst the folding branches
upon manicured grass
where there was once a meadow
watching cars now pass
Beneath the willow tree I rest
and wonder not why it weeps
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A/N:
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About the Creator
Matthew J. Fromm
Full-time nerd, history enthusiast, and proprietor of arcane knowledge.
Here there be dragons, knights, castles, and quests (plus the occasional dose of absurdity).
I can be reached at [email protected]


Comments (10)
I can’t remember if I told you or not, but I switched to a 1p to 1a shift… on my drives home deer don’t feel majestic; I’m scanning the tree line like they’re the enemy, waiting to ambush lol This made me realize how much that mindset strips the life out of them (there’s some wordplay fun somewhere in there but I’m not sure I awake enough to find it lol)
You create a gentle but powerful contrast between the meadow that once thrived and the manicured, car-lined present. The poem becomes a quiet elegy for lost wildness, delivered with a steady, reflective voice.
Beautiful, It pulled me into those few lovely childhood moments. Willow trees are so majestic and magical. You really captured it. 👏👏𓇢𓆸
Lovely. I’m in a slightly different space today and took a flying leap out of my comfort zone for a couple of soc rants; here’s one piece of insanity: https://shopping-feedback.today/poets/oops-dj88b0u3u%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E If you feel lke braving my crazy.
The shift from beauty to the harsh reality of the road hits quietly but powerfully. This made me realise some things just can’t speak but still tell their story.🍃
"Memories incarnate" has me thoroughly captivated and I am very sad that I never thought to use that phrase. This poem is a powerful combination of lovely and haunting. The beautiful picture you've chosen perfectly compliments the beauty of your poem.
The transition from beauty to tragedy in this was flawlessly done! Deer are my favorite so excuse me while I dry my tears
My grandmother's home sat along the bank of a river where there was a grove of willow trees. I spend many days playing under those trees, my imagination running wild. It's a sad story, and I wonder why the willow has not wept as well. Nicely done.
Good job! Strong final lines
My word, this is exquisite, sad, beautiful, all kinds of things. Wonderful work, sir!