Listening To Silhouettes Of Rhythms Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Every bough of a weeping willow tree sways in the wind,
trying to be free of tearful feelings that are attached
to its center.

Reminders of what we used to mean to one another, now
listening to silhouettes of rhythms and their melodies,
wishing and hoping to resurrect each of them.

Alas, that's not to be again, for the past is gone, the
present soon will be a part of that, even the future can-
not escape, all only to be on the road of a past lifetime.