The Willow Tree
by Arvilla Fee
He held her hand;
she held her breath,
they vowed to love
until their deaths
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
Oh, so young,
oh, so free,
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
“Meet me here,”
he said with tears;
“when the moon is full,
I will appear
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.”
Oh, so young,
and nearly free,
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
She promised him
she’d steal away,
knowing her oath
would pave the way
toward the branches
of the willow tree.
Oh, so young,
but never free
except in branches
of the willow tree.
And so...
The peasant’s son
and the noble’s girl,
one with pennies
and one with pearls
traveled each
from separate place,
keeping watch
on the full moon’s face.
The night was still
and void of sound
until the air was split
with baying hound.
The noble’s daughter
screamed with fear;
“Not my love,
my darling dear!”
She ran as fast
as feet could fly,
but the night was ripped
by anguished cry
near the branches
of the willow tree.
“Oh, dear God,
don’t let it be,
not in the branches
of our willow tree.”
But, alas--
His life was over;
her love was hung,
and to his legs
she wept and clung,
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
“Oh, my darling,
how could he?”
she sobbed
beneath the willow tree.
The nobleman
searched high and low
but he would never ever
know
how his daughter met
her fate
on the night he killed
her loving mate
within the branches
of the willow tree.
Some have said
they see them there,
hand-in-hand,
without a care;
their laughter floats
upon the breeze
beneath
the willow-willow leaves.
They are young,
and forever free,
safe in the branches
of the willow tree.
she held her breath,
they vowed to love
until their deaths
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
Oh, so young,
oh, so free,
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
“Meet me here,”
he said with tears;
“when the moon is full,
I will appear
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.”
Oh, so young,
and nearly free,
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
She promised him
she’d steal away,
knowing her oath
would pave the way
toward the branches
of the willow tree.
Oh, so young,
but never free
except in branches
of the willow tree.
And so...
The peasant’s son
and the noble’s girl,
one with pennies
and one with pearls
traveled each
from separate place,
keeping watch
on the full moon’s face.
The night was still
and void of sound
until the air was split
with baying hound.
The noble’s daughter
screamed with fear;
“Not my love,
my darling dear!”
She ran as fast
as feet could fly,
but the night was ripped
by anguished cry
near the branches
of the willow tree.
“Oh, dear God,
don’t let it be,
not in the branches
of our willow tree.”
But, alas--
His life was over;
her love was hung,
and to his legs
she wept and clung,
beneath the branches
of the willow tree.
“Oh, my darling,
how could he?”
she sobbed
beneath the willow tree.
The nobleman
searched high and low
but he would never ever
know
how his daughter met
her fate
on the night he killed
her loving mate
within the branches
of the willow tree.
Some have said
they see them there,
hand-in-hand,
without a care;
their laughter floats
upon the breeze
beneath
the willow-willow leaves.
They are young,
and forever free,
safe in the branches
of the willow tree.
Arvilla Fee teaches English Composition for Clark State College and is the poetry editor for the San Antonio Review. She has published poetry, photography, and short stories in numerous presses, and her poetry book, The Human Side, was just released December 2022. For Arvilla, writing produces the greatest joy when it connects us to each other.