The Willow Invisible

I was trying to slip by the lilies,
Those sly things.
Green tentacles unfurled toward my ankles,
All hot and yearning.

Oh what shall I do for Ariel?
Who pesters me, and hounds my body for kisses.
I cannot take such grasping love,
Can he not see the tag on my spirit marked “free”?

Perhaps I can get past the azaleas,
They look to be sleeping,
All swollen with bright pink bud,
Too pregnant with color to move.

I pace the house from room to room,
Waiting for an open door,
Till I finally slip into a little gray willow,
That hides me conveniently.

Rochelle Weidner

If you've any comments on this poem, Rochelle Weidner would be pleased to hear from you.