Young vibrant willow, playfully swaying in the breeze,
So fresh, so new, so much smaller than the other trees.
He flings his branches out and gently leans back; then springs himself forward, wobbling here and there
Creating a huge gust of wind bringing cleaner, crisper, fresher air.
In the summer kids played near him as they giggled and ran about
Animals gathered at his trunk for protection from scary, gray, rainy clouds.
In the winter he wore a freezing coat, but never did he give up hope,
For he knew someday his trials would end, and he would be swaying in sun again.
Years went by and up he grew, but sadly enough, his surroundings did too.
The kids who once played with him were no longer kids, for they were now big ladies and men.
He remembered a couple, a girl and a boy and the two of them brought him so much joy
One evening at sunset they gave him a fancy tattoo, it was a heart that read “I will always love youâ€.
They visited together but one day the girl came alone, and on this day, sadness was all her face had shown.
She cried and hugged the tree and said how missed her beloved boyfriend would be.
The willow felt a way he never had, a young boy was murdered and the willow was very sad.
More things changed over the years, that brought that happy willow very unhappy tears
The humble dirt road he faced all his life, became a two lane street with cars going left and right.
His animal friends were being killed by humans with guns, they were chased and hunted and killed for fun.
The beautiful farm house was torn down, and up rose towering buildings from the ground.
Humans felt they needed more space, so they cut down his tree friends in great haste.
The willow hung his head in shame, because all of these terrible humans were the blame.
The skies were no longer fresh and clear, so he had to work harder every year.
In the spring birds flew back and stories upon stories they would sing and yack.
The chattering stories became worse each time and rather than song, it would come out as a whine.
They told about forests fires, crime, destruction, and suicide. About war, and sadness, drugs and madness.
Time went by and the worse it got, trash littered the floor of his parking lot.
Yes that was left of the grounds he loved and that loved he, he was now but a tree stuck on a dirt island between tar and concrete.
He wept for days, for weeks, and months. He wept until he had had enough.
The old dull willow hung his head and swayed in the breeze. The poor sad willow died due to lack of Peace.
