weeping willow

on the outskirts of town
right side of the railroad tracks
dreams of willow trees
flutter her imagination;

she fancies herself
riding on the lazy limbs
swaying to and fro,
but fears a hazy breeze
might cast her far below.

she recalls she
once made friends with the wind
but giving it a good gust herself
it turned away;
in revulsion maybe
in contemplation
it would seem not.

it takes a thousand yesterdays
to remember just one moment.

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