A Beaming Willow

I stand near the road-verge. The artist who brought me here from another realm caresses me whenever I feel homesick. Passers-by who see my flower-clusters can’t take their eyes off.

Sometime ago, a lady, doe-eyed, appeared and stroked me tenderly. Although very protective towards me, my master said nothing. For the little time she stood there, he secretly drew a quick portrait of her fawning upon me.

She now turns up every other day and furtively glances over at the cloister where he writes. I’m now a beaming willow. You know why? They’ve come into each other’s radar through me!

First published in f3

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