Beneath a Willow

So, about a year ago, some very very thoughtful friends of mine secretively wrote this poem for me at a Microsoft Conference. I love it and thought I would share it with the world:

Samara, the lady fair

And beautifully made,

Sighed as she sat down 

Beneath a willow in its shade.

As she leaned against this tree, 

the young lady yawned.

Soon she fell fast asleep

And this is what she saw...

...A sun-lit road and daffodils,

An old abandoned shoe,

Adorned with seven butterflies

And flowers-white and blue.

With curious and wandering thoughts,

She traveled down the road,

Not knowing what was next 

Not knowing where to go.

Like the flicker of a lighted lamp

A creature caught her glance.

A bounding hart with eyes aglow,

Alive in prideful prance.

The creature had such presence!

Samara wished to know

From whence derived its fire--

Its passion, grace, and flow!

Its commanding presence halted

And began to graze in a clear

Which is when the youthful Samara

Started to draw near

Cautiously she placed each step

Avoiding making noise.

But-Ah!-one crackle of a twig

Disrupted the creature's poise.

With a twinkle in his eye

He felt her presence there.

Samara quickly held her breath

As the wind blew in her hair.

The hart's eyes stared into hers

Until finally making a turn

And he slowly walked away

Through the bushes and the ferns.

She hesitated once, and then,

With one last look around,

Samara chose to follow him,

to see where he was bound.

She, persistent in pursuit,

Cautious of what was ahead,

Kept sight of the creature,

The hart knowing as he fled.

He knew her real intention,

Knew her heart was true,

But the wild that lay inside him

Pushed him as he flew.

She ran with sheer joy.

She ran to keep his pace,

For the strength she gave to chase him

Was the cost to see his face.

He stopped beside a willow tree

And turned to look at her.

His eyes met hers; she smiled at him

And walked to join him there...

... The lady awoke with a start

Alone out in the dark.

The images were fading ,

Replaced with grass and bark--

Except... those blazing eyes!

That memory was her own.

One thing she knew for sure;

Such peace she'd never known

For the prince of the forest 

Is not easily caught.

The desire to give up quickly

Must be beat and fought.

The thirst for comfort,

The love of rest,

Must be abandoned 

To gain what is the best.

The best is to be near him, 

Gazing in his eyes,

Knowing what you have given 

Was worth this heavenly prize.

- Composed by:

Sean Matthews

Jared Crealock

Dahlia Avila

Emily Franklin

July 2008, Houston, Texas