Weep, like the willow above your head. Its’ branches heavy with the sorrow of a hundred moons. Sway with the wind that caresses your cheek. Let your tears flow like the summers’ creek beneath your feet. All hope is lost like a bittersweet memory. Maybe it will come back, like the birds in the spring. Your mind soaring high, with their wings leading the way to happiness, love, and dreams. What if it’s all a dream though? Waiting to disappear like a fog in the early morning. Like the dew on the grass that can’t survive past the early hours of life? The willow has seen it all. Her branches, her leaves, are heavy with the sights she has seen. Your life’s sorrow poured into the water she drinks. Her leaves wrap around you, trying to hide the memories from your frightened eyes. One of mother, of sister, of father, and brother. One of hurt, of loss, of death, of tears, and anger. So many horrible things that she sees, that you have seen. Your tears flow plentiful, making the creek a river, an ocean. A black sea of lost hope. A red sea of blood mixing with memory. All is lost as you dream beneath your willow tree. Encased in her leaves that cry for your broken heart. She will try to piece it back together, but will it work? Can hearts be fixed if all that will happen is a new crack every day the sun rises? Sleep my child, and see when you awake to the bittersweet life drawn out for you.