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.  

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
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.
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Comments on "Its Branches are as Blankets"

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  • A former member wrote: Really amazing

  • A former member wrote: loved it..absolutely. thanks for sharing :)

  • Devilish On Sunday, January 20, 2013, Devilish (2662)By person wrote:

    Beautiful wolf.. and your right no two are the same. Scholar

  • Dei On Saturday, January 19, 2013, Dei (665)By person wrote:

    You are always a favorite darling. beautiful as always.

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