Weeping Willows

I cry to myself 

In the deepest sorrow 

For the loss of my father 

I long for his presence 

Crying to others 

Has no use 

I’ve done it many times 

Each one growing old 

I have use for my sadness 

I write poetry with it 

How silly and beautiful 

I’ll tell you what he loved

He loved weeping willows 

And weeping, I am

Unnamed willow 

He named me after his mother 

Carlene was her name 

One syllable short of mine 

I am one father short in life 

No one to pin the crime 

You know when people ask:

Who’s one person you’d like to meet?

I say my father, quickly

On the drop of a dime