the willow, she weeps

tears of anguish 

numb against a pouring rain

she weeps to dampen her darkest pain 

and she weeps 

why must the willow weep?

the answer I lack; it is buried deep. 

the willow, she wanders

she sways

her leaves sing the simplest songs

and she wonders if she’s done wrong 

for wandering

why does the willow wander?

isn’t it better to be certain, or ponder?

the willow, she wishes

wishes fit for a fairy tale 

if only the time could have gone more slowly 

if only, if only, if only

she wishes 

why does the willow wish?

stigma has granted the thought as childish. 

in fact, why must the willow sway?

why must it be her who feels this way?

for I know why the willow weeps

why she will wish and wonder and wander 

I know why the willow weeps 

she cascades herself in woe 

I know why the willow weeps 

in a forest of sunlit trees

I know why the willow weeps 

until the day she must let go