BY DR. AGONSON
I sought you by the willow tree,
and under drooping boughs of green
did find the empty place where we
once spent a life within a dream.
We saw a whole future back then,
and now I am alone again.
So long my love, my very flesh.
I’ll stay under this willow now.
The little leaves are all a mesh
of rotten promises and vows.
Under my feet their wet decay
is trampled as I make my way.
Unto our seat I set my path.
Under the shade I vent my wrath:
I thought our words meant something then,
but now I know nothing is true.
So here I’m left within this fen,
and of our time I only rue.