T’was a cold, blizzard night

When my brother’s friends had come

Had only one objective, 

quite far and flung

We marched in the snow,

carefully, one by one

as to not fall into 

the snowy paradise of fun

We had reached our destination

In the corner of the yard,

that great weeping willow

Others bar none

We hoisted our roped and cast our lines

in search of the forsaken, a treasure to find

Our meddling, strewn over like vines

on that old old Willow, beautiful and kind

In an attempt to subdue its life

A thing we tried to trifle

Inside it rested, a broken branch,

Ropes against it’s neck, unmoving and stifled

We pulled and pulled and pulled

Against the cold, frigid air

Blasting in our face

Bleeding into out underwear

It fell and flattered

Knees buckled on the floor

It’s bones cracked and fingers lacked

the crevasses to hold, aching and sore

Despite it’s ropes holding it to a wall,

it proved strong through it all

It reached heights of beauty

Not seen by many at all

We pulled for what seemed like hours

Left colder than we came

With hands empty handed

Heads hanging in shame

Light handed, empty, and shaken

Without the thought of our activity, brazen

I flopped into bed with a feeling of dread

With a sad feeling radiating in my head

Years past, winters had went, and summers had come

I looked on that place where that grand willow sung

It’s beautiful form, now cast to a stump

It’s beautiful arches, now a flat top

Chorus

That old stump felt hollow and alone

The tree’s troupe was missing one of their own

Despite that, it sang through and through, 

Its happy melody, bright and blue