We weary walkers wander walkways
wondering when we will witness
wonderfully wooded Wisteria Way,
where we will welcome woodland worlds
which will withstand wilting walkers.
Wincing, we wobble wistfully,
wanting windblown woods
which will wake weary worn walkers.
Wait! Weather's worsening!
We wearily walk.....
This poem is in response to dverse's prompt to write a Quadrille poem which contains 44 words and which must have the word 'way' in it.
I have penned it as a 'tautogram' poem where each word must begin with the same letter, in this case, 'w'.