The Weeping Willow

Pinks and blues fade

With the sun as it 

Surrenders to the night and the stars

Begin to dust the sky.

There stands the 

Weeping Willow with its drooping branches

And long mournful whispers.

Winds breeze by, tugging at its

Wistful sighs, trying to pry free

The memories which it holds, 

But the Willow refuses to let go 

Of the sorrows that keeps it rooted.

She came and she went, the girl,

But would always return to the 

Comfort of the Willow's embrace.

Running with unadorned grace

Unbridled freedom

In her world of tightly strapped harnesses

And cruel iron cages,

The Willow was her escape to hidden liberty.

Her hair billowed behind her,

The muddy golden tresses twirling with 

The wind as it enveloped her in great waves.

Then she would be there,

Plunging into the Willow's welcoming arms,

The leaves sashaying with the gently swaying branches

As she brushed past their soft caress.

The branches fell back 

Into place and the breeze

Drifted into a soft melody

To ease the girl's pain.

She would crumple 

At the foot of the Willow, whispering

Cries for mercy and pleas for understanding.

Hours pass by as she finds 

Solstice in the silent companionship of the

Once forgotten Willow.

With each sadness that came,

She would whisper her sorrow into the knot

In the trunk so as to place the burden

Upon someone who so willingly accepted it.

As each pained word passed from

Girl to Willow,

A new leaf would grow on the limbs

And gravity would work to drag the branch low.

Day after day the girl would return

With resounding wails that sliced through the night.

Such innocence was coveted, but not the

Tears that followed,

None could soothe the scars with

The unmatched tenderness  of the Willow and

Its Creator.

The Willow would await the sight 

Of her floating through the reaching grasses

To wander into its ever loving serenity.

Branches sang with tragic beauty,

Parting just enough to allow her figure through and 

Drooping lower and lower 

With the weight of her tears.

She was a humble being,

The rare kind who only chose to see light

In the surrounding darkness.

The years went on, her child-like nature 

Turned into a treasure of youth 

And more heartbreak came along with it.

She grew more passionate and

Urged words, such beautiful words, to

Lead her through the pain.

The Willow became a beloved sounding post 

For thoughts so heartfelt and beautiful

To come from such a tender aged girl.

Her speech became eloquent,

Her tongue fast with biting words of

Deep pain and flames of regret

Licking down her throat.

The Willow stood and listened in patient earnest

As she knelt and sobbed rivers

That flooded the core of its interior.

Youth faded and she wizened

Much too much and walls were built

To safeguard secrets only the Willow knew.

Autumns flew by and with each one

The Willow grew heavier in the girl's despair,

But always lighter  in the love she inflicted.

Time took its toll on her,

As it does all living creatures,

And so on her last day with the Willow,

She sobbed.

Not for her great sadness,

But for the joy she had been given

Through the Willow and other great things

She had attained in life.

The Willow was her treasure, for it

Had taken all her sorrows upon itself,

Each tear shed hanging on the branches of its

Body, hanging for her,

Skimming the dirt of the Earth.

So with her last  breaths she thanked 

God for His creations and beauty of the things

That by most go unseen.

The day was finally captured by night 

And the Willow stood sentry over the 

Beauty who sought its company.

There stands the Weeping Willow.


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