My weeping Willow stands proud like a flower in the sprinkling rain. When the wind blows she sings as if the angles were with her. Her leaves hang low like the sun as its about to set. When the moon is at its peak, she sparkles like the stars. When harsh winter comes she does not fall. She stands as proud as she always has. In my darkest hours I go to her. I comfort her as she does me. When I leave I sense her smile, and like a willow she stands proud.
