Beneath the Willow Tree

I swing under a branch of a willow tree. Listening to the groans of the old mother as I swing higher and higher. Giving in to my persistent wishing and dream of flying. I look out to the horizon at the hazy lights, watching as the sun quenches its thirst, drowning itself in the ocean. The absence of the sun ushers in the presence of heavens lights, its gleam comforts my aching soul. During the day, my scars are visible. During the day, my pain can be seen. During the day, I am put to work. During the day, I am tired. During the day, the hot sun beats down on me, its unrelenting heat mercilessly has me fallen in defeat. But the night brings liberation. The night brings a soft shimmer of glimmering lights. The night brings a cool, comforting breeze. The night is my sanctuary, giving me relief, even just for a few hours. I swing under a branch of a willow tree. Higher and higher, reaching for the stars. Reaching higher, pushing harder. Allowing myself to dream until the sun awakens.