A Song of the Willows

here it is
six plus days
when wimping
and whining
will not
fill up
our day
with
walloping
waywizer whompings.

Here we are
waygone we are
bygones we were
wayward we were
wayward we are
whencesoever, whereinsoever
all whomsoever fell down
our wherret whifflery trap?

Winward we roam
yet still at home
with whingers and fingers
and winglets.
Made in two
yet snapped into
windlestraw, weed
woolsack
and woolsey.

Here goes our song:
wither we have gone
whether have we won
we have surely
most assuredly
Stayed planted.