He brings joy to me,

his laugh makes my heart smile,

his eyes, like the sea.

Endless charm is his style,

and he is my willow tree.

 

His embrace is warm

and it keeps me from falling,

for he calms my storm

when everything is daunting.

Yes, he is my willow tree.

 

I look at the sea,

but a hopelessness looks back.

He sighs and tells me,

"I'm a runner with no track."

Where is my willow tree?

 

"I am dying ill,

just forget and let me be.

I have lost all will,"

he cries and tells me.

My willow has yellow leaves.

 

I hold him tightly

as he crumbles in my arms.

"Don't give up," I plea,

"Let this time be truly ours."

I will be his willow tree