mr16's shoebox: old man willow

old man willow goes
(soflty goes) hush his toes,
through silent streets only he knows -
at night his shadow never shows.

old man willow finds
(different kinds of) people's minds,
watches thoughts behind the blinds
in sleeping homes each dream unwinds.

old man willow blinks
(and still he slinks) in blackest inks,
listens, hears, and thoughtless, thinks,
into the darkness ever sinks.

old man willow tries
(glistening goodbyes) to close his eyes,
reflect black pools of distant sighs
from long ago where mem'ry lies.

old man willow's dawn
(a wintry morn) from rev'rie torn,
dark comfort lost brings curtains drawn
dark comfort lost, cold light reborn.

old man willow cries
(softly dies) quiet disguise,
until with next evening to rise
here sits his temporal demise.

old man willow soaks
(yet floats) in half drowned vagrant boats,
groans in day, at twilight, croaks,
awaits the tides of night time moats.

old man willow seeks
(what hollow cheeks!) through shadow peeks,
of which loss only darkness speaks
until through night, again day leaks.

to what earthly horror the meek are bound,
what chains of guilt, wrapped wrist around.
a face on river surface, found
once lost, recovered, swiftly drowned.

the face, submerged, looks up in dream,
pale, lifeless masque, deathly serene.
looking up, spies dappled gleam;
a candle afloat in a boat down stream.