The willow tree near our house has always been a silent witness of us—of you flourishing into something beautiful and of me turning into a beholder of something beautiful.
Hours spent under the shade, sharing stories and secrets; exchanging smiles, laughters and hugs.
But my favorite part is not the things that we've shared nor exchanged, actually.
My favorite part is the silent moments in-between, when I watch you bask in the sun and let the wind blow through your hair.
I think you're the most beautiful at that moment.
And I am so, so, afraid that I will ruin everything if I told you my last secret.
The secret that only the willow tree knows.
Something that I'll gladly give to you, but will never receive back in return.
And another reason why the tree lives up to its name—
The weeping willow.
—For you, the root cause of the willow tree growing inside of me
