By Voiceless

I once played under a willow, when I was just eight.
My willow was long-ago scarred with two names and a date.
"Anne and Steve", circled in hearts, is what the tree said.
And due to the date, they now have long since been dead.
And though Anne and Steve are merely parts of the past,
I could still hear their laughing in the trees, in the grass.

Weeping Willow, what secrets you must keep.
My Dear Weeping Willow, for whom do you weep?

Weeping Willow, the sadness you must hold,
as the ones who once loved you grow up and grow old.

Now i return whithered and gray to the disappearing wood.
And a parking lot now lies where the willow tree stood.
The concrete which replaced you has no stories to tell.
Those stories all died the day that you fell.

Submitted By venus

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