Lady of the lake…


 Lady of the lake….


We loved the weeping willows trees by the lake, we loved the month of July and August. Once I wanted death and my lady of the lake, whispered a sweet song to me.         

         “Do words matter?   

               What are we?   

               Maybe we are just, here for a second,   

               maybe we are just dancers upon the wind,

                   waiting for a reason to be alive. 

                 Dear Poet,   

               dance with me near the weeping willow tree,     

             Lets, become like the free and wild dandelions, 

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