Willow - Poem by Charles WOO
In late spring, the willow in our garden comes to my sight.
Its green narrow leaves cast shadows to my bed by moonlight.
The new moon hides at its tip which shows an amorous look.
It is dancing in my courtyard with a charming outlook.
Its gesture is so graceful that it plays like an actor.
Mercy Goddess picks its branch to water her follower.
Unlike the blossom tree, it does not grow fragrant flower.
It condenses dew drops which are gifts from sky emperor.
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