NaPoWriMo 14: Tickled

The willows weep for me.
Their leafy branches tickle the winds above.
And then swoop down upon me in a flurry of vegetation.
A breeze skirts the forest floor. 
Causing flowers to descend upon my senses.
Clogging my throat with dust.
Drowning my eyes in petals.
The willows make me weep.

a.d. (a lament of spring allergies)

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