Here by the waters,
here by the flowing waters,
here the pale green leaves
of willow wakened by spring
entwine me, binding my heart.

The waters flow on,
never ceasing their singing.
A single leaf lands,
turns once, drifting away
on the clear, sunlit water.

The withies hold fast,
willow, tree of remembrance,
tree holds my last thoughts
unable to slip away,
bound fast in those yesterdays.

Let me be a leaf
slipping into tomorrow
drifting in sunlight
down the clear rushing water
not the unmovable tree.