Beneath the Willow Tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Beneath the Willow Tree I sit, listening to the silence of the waning day. I am ensconced beneath its graceful drooping canopy of lush green strands of leaves that seem to gently touch the breathing soil below.

BENEATH THE WILLOW TREE 

By Al Garcia

Beneath the Willow Tree I sit, listening to the silence of the waning day.  I am ensconced beneath its graceful drooping canopy of lush green strands of leaves that seem to gently touch the breathing soil below. 

I feel the serenity of the moment, and embrace the feeling that overpowers the dormant wrath that lies inside my scared and anxious wondering mind.  I am reminded of a time and a place of so long ago, when I used to play beneath an old Mesquite Tree on a farm when I was just a boy -- young, carefree, and unburdened by memories or recollections that the passing years and fleeting human bonds and ties emboss upon the evolving soul.

There was an innocence once, where now there is an emptiness – an emptiness once filled with promise and with dreams.  I remember the gentleness that life appeared to be.  I recall the ever-changing seasons and the ever-growing distance between me and the boy I used to be.  And sitting beneath the Willow Tree, as the gentle winds begin to whisper unspoken words into the recesses of my mind, I find myself in a world beyond my imagination.  A world where the stolen dreams of boys and men I used to know, again begin to glow and grow in the light of the emerging day.  I see them and hear them -- their smiles and their certainty, their laughter and their vitality. 

And it is then beneath the Willow Tree, with its weeping, drooping branches swaying in the wind, that my eyes begin to tear and my soul becomes so heavy and so grim.  You see, I still remember them.  I see their young, unchanged faces, and I feel the texture and the trace of them that lingers inside the mortal being that sits beneath the Willow Tree.  And I feel the guilt at having lived beyond the time we shared.

I wish I could return to playing beneath the Mesquite Tree, in a time before the memories and the recollections began to fill my mind and touch my heart and soul.  Yet sitting beneath the Willow Tree, through tears and through the pain of loss, I feel a sense of intimacy, inseparability and friendship that has outlasted the passing seasons that have betrayed the boy I used to be. 

And as the Willow Tree sways in the wind, my memories bring back glimmers and flashes that bring back stolen dreams, if only for a moment inside my haunted mind. 


Submitted: May 23, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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