Storm at Sea By Amar Qamar

Willow and Ginkgo By Eve Merriam

CRASHING waves... SMASHING seas...

Bringing sailors to their knees.
As they struggle to save their lives
Hoping and praying, help arrives.

The willow is like an etching,

Fine-lined against the sky.
The gingko is like a crude sketch,
Hardly worth to be signed.
The willows music is like a soprano,
Delicate and thin.
The ginkgos tune is like a chorus
With everyone joining in.

The stormy seas as dark as coal,

Preventing the sailors from reaching their goal.
Battered and bruised, but still they fight...
Staring ahead, into the dead of night.
Rocking and rolling as they try to stand...
Hoping against hope, that they soon reach land.
Bleary eyed from lack of sleep.
Down in their cabins, huddled like sheep.
As they're rocking and rolling down beneath
Weary sailors above, resist with gritted teeth.

The willow is sleek as a velvet- nosed calf;

The gingko is leathery as an old bull.
The willows branches are like silken thread;
The ginkgos like stubby rough wool.

Hours later, as the storm starts to dissipate,

It leaves a calm tranquil sea in it wake.
The veteran sailors know the battle is over, and they
have won...
As contemplate, other storms yet to come...

The willow is like a nymph with streaming hair;

Wherever it grows, there is green and gold and fair.
The willow dips into the water,
Protected and precious, like the kings favorite
daughter.
The ginkgo forces its way through gray concrete;
Like a city child, it grows up in the street.
Thrust against the metal sky,
Somehow it survives and even thrives.
My eyes feast upon the willow,
But my heart goes to the gingko.

Storm at Sea By Amar Qamar

Willow and Ginkgo By Eve Merriam

CRASHING waves... SMASHING seas...

Bringing sailors to their knees.
As they struggle to save their lives
Hoping and praying, help arrives.

The willow is like an etching,

Fine-lined against the sky.
The gingko is like a crude sketch,
Hardly worth to be signed.
The willows music is like a soprano,
Delicate and thin.
The ginkgos tune is like a chorus
With everyone joining in.

The stormy seas as dark as coal,

Preventing the sailors from reaching their goal.
Battered and bruised, but still they fight...
Staring ahead, into the dead of night.
Rocking and rolling as they try to stand...
Hoping against hope, that they soon reach land.
Bleary eyed from lack of sleep.
Down in their cabins, huddled like sheep.
As they're rocking and rolling down beneath
Weary sailors above, resist with gritted teeth.
Hours later, as the storm starts to dissipate,
It leaves a calm tranquil sea in it wake.
The veteran sailors know the battle is over, and they
have won...
As contemplate, other storms yet to come...

The willow is sleek as a velvet- nosed calf;

The gingko is leathery as an old bull.
The willows branches are like silken thread;
The ginkgos like stubby rough wool.
The willow is like a nymph with streaming hair;
Wherever it grows, there is green and gold and fair.
The willow dips into the water,
Protected and precious, like the kings favorite
daughter.
The ginkgo forces its way through gray concrete;
Like a city child, it grows up in the street.
Thrust against the metal sky,
Somehow it survives and even thrives.
My eyes feast upon the willow,
But my heart goes to the gingko.