Underneath the Willow Trees

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She spoke with a constant suicide note 

Clenched in her fist, 

Moaning in the night, 

Like a lone coyote 

Calling for its mate.

We ignored her vacant stares

The constant tears.

Her health, a pest.

Her happiness, unwelcomed.

She dreamt of death in a horse and carriage

But natures course is much too patient

Her body suffocated under an old wool blanket.

When her struggling figure began to slow

The rain stopped 

The fever finally broke.

The Ophelia spell disheartened her final victim.

We buried her near a pond

Where the weeds have grown wild.

Three young boys

Dug their mother's grave.

Then vowed to never return.

Moss swallowed the trees she'd hidden behind

All these years

Grass grows over her fair skin, 

Disguising her fingers in the branches

And her hair in the willows.

A flower bud began to grow over her eternal bed

But never embraced the sun.

Created: Apr 29, 2017

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