Stand Alone Willow


Standing alone the willow wept.
Her long hair hanging down.
Her thick skin had long concealed
the soft heart whose tenderness
did abound.
How long had she longed to lift
her boughs and stretch them to the sky?
Prehaps as long as she had loved and lived her willow's cry.
Her lot, she guessed, it ever be,
that she should stand alone.
She could not move or walk away
from the spot on which
she'd grown.
And so she wept before every eye
who chanced upon her place.
Her long tresses hanging down to
hide the tears that
stained her face...

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