Just Another Poem

A thought taken down into writing

Willow leaves rustle as they shift,
Brush and sway,
In the dim lamp-light
From the corner, from the street,
And move on quietly
In the cool night breeze.
I sit and I swing;
Creaking, rising, and falling,
Head leaned back, feet forward,
Watching shadows dance on the frame.
Across the street,
Piano keys play sad and sweet,
Below the cloud-patched quilt
Of the star-bright August sky;
I sit and swing,
Thinking far and away;
What is to come,
What has gone by,
Wondering if the beauty
Of this simple street corner
Will stay with me until I die.