Willow Weep

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Weeping willows line the lake
like a row of harpists with broken hearts,
whose music has fallen silent.
In dream, I sometimes walk their path
on summer mornings,
the way I used to do, those days,

when I woke with love beside me,
and the promise of forever in my heart.


for Sanaa's prompt at Real Toads: to write a L'Arora