How solemn I feel for this willow tree,

To be trapped in one spot for eternity.

Imprisoned within the ground below,

She carries a fate she can’t forgo.

Never will she explore new places,

Or meet hundreds of unknown faces.

She lives every day like the one before,

And to her dreams, she’s learned to ignore.


How solemn I feel for this willow tree,

Never to know freedom like you or me.

But then, as if to console my strife,

The woeful wind sways her branches to life.

She may be denied of moving away,

But she’s grateful to be where she is today.

“To be alive,” she whispers to me,

“Is all I could ever wish to be.”


How solemn I felt for this willow tree,

But oh how it’s she who is utterly free.



by Brianna Magner

Hi there, I’m Bri! I’ve always felt like I didn’t quite fit in throughout my life, as if I wasn’t meant to be defined or labeled or be put into a box. When I started writing, whether poetry or prose, I found it pouring out of me into rhyme schemes and well-versed metaphors and alluring alliteration. My life is sometimes messy and complicating, but it’s mine. Welcome to the poetry of a moth. x


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