You are just the branches of a tree
that used to appear and terrify me
long ago and in times past
I saw your shadow in the window caste

Late in the night when no sound was made
except for the rustle of the wind as it bade
all children to cover their faces from
the darkness of hours when no one may come

Windows will close and lights go out
there is no one to explain what this is about.
You are the branches of a tree
that is gone from all of my memory

Struck in a storm a long time ago
you belong to someone that I do not know.

Linda Willows


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