Willow Myrtle

The Willow Myrtle
Whispering in the wind 
Leaves with spines
But as smooth and soft 
As buttermilk from a butterfly
The willow myrtle still sings
It tickles as the wind sweeps 
Through my leaves
As my little  flowers float away
As clouds drift apart
As tall as 10 metres
I the willow myrtle 
With my dainty white flowers
I still live through 
Droughts, fires, and floods 
I am still strong and wild 
I spread my leaves Into the air
Birds still sing while I still fly
I’m not just a shrub 
With small white flowers
I am the willow myrtle
Still strong and wild