Willow Grove Poem by Michael Spinelli

Way far down the Willow grove
Laid a maiden fast asleep.
In the lacquer lake she dove,
Tearing the placid water deep.
Deeper, Deeper, Deeper, she fell.
In a ruby cave; still blind
With hands on walls, our honey belle
Made worldly pictures with her mind.
As the cave went on and on,
Our little girl became unnerved
Our child searched for dark night’s dawn,
And just as the path had curved

She ripped her once tight lids anew
And let light fill her bloodstained eyes.