03 May 2015

The Weeping Willow

In dark of the night,
at break of the dawn,
the jungle stares at her.
She, who once was laden with fruits,
and covered with leaves,
now weeps.

Her tears never dry,
her cries never cease,
lamenting her glorious past,
and a heart sans shields,
she weeps.

Scars of hatred, pain and glum,
grip her tightly,
she bleeds and  bleeds,
a river of sorrow.
Waiting for an eternal sleep,
the weeping willow weeps.


  1. Awe Vandana... this is sad that the weeping willow always weeps... :-(

  2. Stunning. I like the imagery of the words. The photo aligns nicely with your verse.

  3. A wonderful, evocative bit of personification and an enchanted mythological vibe to this piece.


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