For HMST– 21 September 1995
Spring, at a bound. Once more the colourful chorus,
Daffodils first declare their lyric yellow,
Prunus, two shades of pink, blue winter iris,
And then, green youth renewed, our friend the willow,
Through twenty years our blessing and our bane,
Shoots to embrace the power-lines still hell-bent,
Roots itching still to riot in the drain,
How much to prune remained our argument.
Your covetous eye caressed that cherished scene –
The troublesome tree, but loved beyond all blame,
Those waterfalls of soft bewitching green…
The joy I nurse now cannot be the same –
Something that would have seemed beyond conceiving,
I and the willow staying, and you leaving.