Willow


She is there, slouched over on the edge of the meadow
standing in her older brothers shadows,
feels like a million light years till the sun opens to her,
asleep at the time, all is a blur.
As the day goes, sun appears, as it glistens through her hair,
the pond sparkling like a flair.
She dances as the wind flows by,
most cannot see, she wants to grow, fly.
Smells of spring fill the air, distracting those walking by,
they do not notice her cry.
Others walk over,
on her arms, on her legs, on her body,
Constant chirping in her ear and pecking on anatomy,
she does her duty.
Many pass her by but few recognize her beauty,
only those with clear minds can see,
her, short yet proud, The Weeping Willow Tree.

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