Beneath the Weeping Willow… a short story

willow that grow along the river
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

BENEATH THE WEEPING WILLOW

The wind played a lullaby as it blew gently through the weeping willow branches.

Transfixed upon its seductive siren’s call I lay without motion on the ground below.

My eyes were closed and my mind drifted onto another plane.

There, I was lost among wisps of clouds as I floated around my mind.

Tiny drops of sap or dew found their way upon my bare arms and face

And somehow comforted me in my daydream.

Is this the definition of Nature’s bliss?

I will never know as a distant reminder of civilization broke the utopia.

Author: What Words May Come

Hopeless romantic; joker; father and grandfather; husband; sportsman; part-time writer;

5 thoughts on “Beneath the Weeping Willow… a short story”

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