The House Beneath the Willow
There is a house beneath the willow,
where time forgot to keep its word.
Its windows sigh with old secrets,
and the floorboards hum with memory.
I once lived there, or maybe dreamed it,
the walls breathing slow as sleep.
Every mirror held a question,
and every answer drifted away.
The garden is overgrown with whispers,
roots tangled like lost thoughts.
I still hear laughter in the leaves,
though no one has lived there in years.
If you ever pass that way, listen close,
the wind will tell you my name.
I am still there, beneath the willow,
waiting for someone to remember.
At night, the tree weeps silver rain,
its branches heavy with regret.
But when the dawn returns in quiet,
I forgive what I cannot forget.
So if the willow stirs at your passing,
and a voice hums low and hollow,
do not fear the call you hear,
it is only the heart that follows.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
What a house that would be for I would love to have a house beneath the weeping willow boughs. Great job.