***** Willow

In the half-tone light of a young morning

She sighs and shifts on the pillow.

And across her face dancing, the first shadows fly

To kiss the ***** willow.

In her fairy-tale world she's a lost soul singing

In a sad voice nobody hears.

She waits in her castle of make-believing

For her white knight to appear.

Pusy willow --- down fur-lined avenue

Brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.

Runs for the train --- see, eight o'clock's coming

Cutting dreams down to size again.

***** willow --- down fur-lined avenue

Brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.

Runs from the train. hear her typewriter humming

Cutting dreams down to size again.

She longs for the east and a pale dress flowing

An apartment in old mayfair.

Or to fish the spey, spinning the first run of spring

Or to die for a cause somewhere.

***** willow --- down fur-lined avenue

Brushing the sleep from her young woman eyes.

Runs from the train. hear her typewriter humming

Cutting dreams down to size again.