The wishing tree stood alone by the still, clear water,
Festooned with ribbons of every colour
A fallen rainbow reflected there.
One scarlet ribbon hanging low
Its ragged edge touching the water below
wanting to be washed clean.
I hold the ribbon in my hand
Feeling the weight of sadness lying within
Who placed the scarlet ribbon here?
Whose pain had soaked within this strand?
Who had touched me, calling for help...

© Anita Dawes 2018