Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The Willows on Danube




I grow on my own
I spread like a weed
I let pools of water
Sit next to my feet

I ripe without fuss
I flower with ease
I watch every season
Sprout stories on me

Bound into verses
By poets of yore
Lived through the chapters
Of legend and lore

You picture me tall
You picture me bent
You picture me spread
From end to an end

In sunlight I shimmer
In twilight I swoon
My tales can be told
Under a full moon

Who am I?

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