From John at Gethsemane***
When weeping willows have just come in bloom
In heavy heart, the low garden agrees
My maker rests before this broken doom
He says we are the bride and he the groom
An odd way to portray him on his knees
When weeping willows have just come in bloom
Hush'd words of solace will turn glee to gloom
Before a dank and dreary, poignant seize
My maker rests before this broken doom
The others do not know this fate that looms
The only hint- a tear caught in the breeze
When weeping willows have just come in bloom
These eyes have slipped, that I did not presume
Sleeping souls under languid hanging trees
My maker rests before this broken doom
I know he is preparing for the tomb
Yet careless guards have taken him at ease
Weeping willows have just come in bloom
To watch my maker take this broken doom
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