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I sit under this old willow,
Like I have for many years.
Her arms are stretched out,
like my mother's,
reaching out to heal my mourning soul.
Her bark is dry and ancient,
and her scent is powerful.
Sending goose bumps up my body,
and I know he is still here.
My long lost husband living in this tree.
His words are the sounds her leaves make in the wind.
The roots carry his brave soul,
like that day on the battlefield,
His beauty and chivalry still in the willow's trunk,
along with his heart and courage.
He risked it all to protect and to honor me.
"My love," I hear him whisper.
I know he is with me right now.
I can feel it in the cool breeze.
"My love, one day we will be together once again," I say.
I kiss my hand and blow it away.
A gust of wind shakes the tree's leaves
and it races past my face.
I smile because I know that he is listening.
He can see me.
I will not cry for my husband.
I will not cry because I honor this old willow.
Beneath this beautiful reminder,
my husband awaits the day I can be with him again.
"One day," I say as I close my tired, green eyes.
I smile once more
and drift off into a deep sleep.