The Ballad of the Willow’s Lament

Beneath the moon’s cold, silver gaze,

A river hummed an ancient tune,

Where lovers swore in bygone days,

But one was drowned beneath the June.

Young Elara walked the mossy shore,

Her heart aflame for Finn, the bold—

A sailor sworn to love her more

Than tales of buried pirate’s gold.

“I’ll wed you when the swallows sing,”

He vowed, his voice a storm’s low roar.

But fate clipped time with shadowed wing—

The tempest cracked the midnight’s door.

The river swelled, a ravenous beast,

And Finn’s brave boat was swept to naught.

Elara waited, grief unleased,

Till dawn etched scars the storm had wrought.

She wove her hair with reeds and thorn,

And sang a dirge to currents deep.

The waters hissed, “He’s not yet gone—

But seek his kiss in restless sleep.”

Three nights she wandered, barefoot, pale,

Till Finn’s ghost rose in misted guise.

His touch, a frost; his voice, a wail:

“Love binds me where the drowned man lies.”

“Then take me too!” she wept, unshriven,

But waves replied with cruel refrain.

The river claimed her soul as given—

Her body sank, her tears like rain.

Now by the bank, a willow stands,

Its branches trailing like her hair.

It whispers to the shifting sands

Of love that drowned in dark despair.

So heed the tale the waters keep,

Where shadows dance and vows decay.

The willow sighs where lovers weep—

The river always wins its prey.