Where You Carved Me In Wood Poem by Michael Timothy Rose

You’ve carved me from wood
Where you once found I stood,
A weepy willow of tears, a weeping
Willow for you, weeping close
Then, to where you once stood.

You came to a tree,
You carved him a heart,
We never understood, how
the soft spoken magic
Would tear us apart,
How the magic of life
Would come back
For its part.

And, in deed,
I loved you until my days
Of death did approach,
In which I would return to the frail, willowed tree
From which I once
Had stepped free.

And you walked me there,
Along to the perch, you told me,
“’til death do us part, ” no matter
Of church.
And I told you how I loved,
And you beamed, but you cried.
And we wept until the grayed willow
Spoke to claim my heart’s light.

And I exclaimed to the tree
In one last, grievant plea,

“Can you not see that I love, Oh can you not see? ”
And the tree only simply replied;
For she was a willow where she wept, and unlike my love,
She had not been set free.