Aubade

I hold hands with the willow branches
and twirl and twirl and twirl
as my green dress flutters and spins
around me like a carousel
and I sing sweet songs that I wrote for you
and pray that you'll faintly hear them
from wherever you are,
from whatever chair you occupy,
and come out of doors to find me.
My heart is alarmed with the rush
of what it feels like to love you
and all I can do to quell
the endless stirring of my affections
is to pronounce it to all who'll hear.
And I deeply know,
that you will discover me here,
frolicking among the willows,
and grin from ear to ear.
You will tell me how you've waited
to hear the soft melody I've sung,
so that you may finally find the one
for whom you've longed.

No longer will I hold hands
with the limp willow branches.