Oh, good morning, Great Willow,
Tis I, the Mourning Widow.
Indeed, I’m still laden with pain and sorrow,
Afraid of sleep and afraid to borrow,
Another tomorrow from you, Great Willow.
How tired are you of the Mourning Widow?
I can imagine such great tire,
Which is why I’ve come with fire.
You know my story, my curse, my life,
How I’d become the consenting wife,
Of my husband’s afflictions,
And the absence of my objections,
For love made me content with his content
Until my content was untimely spent.
You know the fatal story, no need to revisit
But there is one thing that I feel I must edit.
I iterated my remorse, my penitence, my regret,
But behold a lie and I’m sorry to beget
That mendacity that has solidified our fates.
For you fire, for me rope.
Together we’ll be free and death will bear new hope.
Let us both enjoy the inheritance of peace.
Let us both find comfort in infinite sleep.