The Weeping Tree.
Beneath the weeping cherry tree
Is where you’ll find a restful me
And when I’m dead, my soul is gone
They’ll lay me here, beneath the lawn
For this is where my fantasy grows
Of dragons, witches, elves and trolls
Papa’s hand, as hard as rocks
Can’t touch me here, deep in my thoughts
And Mother, with her constant sleep
Won’t notice my absence between her weeps
In my red dress, against the tree
I find redress surrounding me
Posted on March 26, 2013, in Death, Depression, Family, fear, Love, Relationships, Therapy, Writing and tagged cherry, cherry tree, child, dreams, dress, family, fantasy, Fear, hiding, little girl, red, redress, sadness, tree, weeping. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.