What I Can't Speak Clearly||origional poetry

Between a rock and a hard place, you will always be my tree.

You never were a sycamore, never quite an evergreen.

To me, you are simply Willow.

Who else could form a fist so soft, yet still could part the sea?

The image of you I hold, you may never truly see.

But rest assured, even vision blurred, will see a scene quite clear.

If you’re slipping away, grab my hand.

For you, I can be near.

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Poem written by:@shahidkha
Images: www.pixabay.com