Oh blank paper,
mirror of my mind.
White heart, where is the blood
to run like words
across the page of time?
Bone and sinews, bile
and graying hairs;
concrete of existence, mine;
unbending, clinging to hidden girders
of life’s forged steel….
Willow tree
swaying in the wind,
teach me how.
How to reach up, and bend,
and trail my furthest thoughts
in that stream of love
which has no end.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/willow-tree-3/
