The Weeping Tree

I will go down to the weeping tree
if I have to.
I will wear my black dress,
my black shoes.
If I have to, I will lose you
and use my hands to return you
to the secret place you used to sleep –
a place before all memory
– and I will beg you still to wait for me
under the cover of the weeping tree;
in a place before our memories
we can meet again.

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