Its Branches are as Blankets
By lupus tenebrae
A withered willow,
earthen causeway
to the sky,
temple for the meek.
Battered tendrils drape,
like a moth-bitten curtain,
and irksome dreadlocks.
Ever
vigilant,
like a sentry in disguise,
stoic all the same.
A silent shoulder,
to lean helplessly upon,
when the world
turns cold.
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Copyright 2013 lupus tenebrae
Published on Saturday, January 19, 2013.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Author's Note:
*Repost* Every willow has a story, and no two tales are alike.Comments on "Its Branches are as Blankets"
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A former member wrote:
Really amazing
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A former member wrote:
loved it..absolutely. thanks for sharing :)
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On Sunday, January 20, 2013, Devilish
(2662) wrote:
Beautiful wolf.. and your right no two are the same.
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On Saturday, January 19, 2013, Dei
(665) wrote:
You are always a favorite darling. beautiful as always.