The Weeping Willow.

The Weeping Willow. There’s a place down by the river where I spend a lot of time you see. Alone with my friend the Weeping Willow Tree. I tell the willow what my heart is feeling, the good times and the bad. And what kind of day I had. When I sit there by the tree, I think of how we sat there together. Often in any kind of weather. There were times your hair would shimmer in the moonlight. The moonlight, reflecting off the river would twinkle in your eyes and make them shine so bright. I’d hold you in my arms for hours, as we watched the starry night. Sometimes we’d explore each others body and cause such sweet delight. You asked me once, “Do you think the willow weeps for us because we’re so in love?” “Could those be tears of happiness falling from above?” It seems so long ago since you asked me that question, and I smiled at the suggestion. The day you left my life, it cut me like a knife. I bled tears from my heart, at the thought of being apart. So now I sit under the tree, and I have your answer,  “The Willow weeps for me!” Written October 8th, 2001 © on Oct 08 2001 06:29 AM PST   10 • 0 • 8