Whispering Willows

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A father brought his son to a park
One beautiful, summer day
To show him a special aspect
Of a tree that dwelt on the way.

“Go up to the tree,” tells the father his boy,
“And ask it a simple query.
Then listen close to the tree, my son,
And be bold, no need to be wary.”

Off went the boy to accomplish the task
That his father had just set before him.
Though he thought it quite stupid to talk to a tree,
For he knew trees can't answer a question.

But the boy was greatly mistaken,
As we most surely will see,
He went up to the tree and asked him if he
Was a birch, a pine, or a cherry.

I'm none of those three replied to him the tree,
Much to the boy's surprise.
I really am a weeping willow
You can see looking close with your eyes.

The lad turned his shoulder and their short talk was over
As quickly as it had begun.
Then did the son vow that when he was older
He'd do what his father had done.

He'd come to this park where would stand the tree
With his son holding tight to his hand
Then he'd say to the boy,” Go ask it a question.”
This is what he planned.

So if you're walking one day
In a park with your brother,
Try asking a tree a question or two
And if it doesn't reply, try asking another.





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