In response to public news post #18771:


During the course of my life, I have seen many deaths. One day I
happened upon an old willow tree. There was a small, nearly hidden
gravestone set at her base. I looked up at the old tree and was stricken
with the sudden impression that it was unbearably sad. It was then that
I began composing this poem...

The Willow's Weeping

Why does the lonely Willow weep?
Her branches, like a mourning shroud pulled 'round.
She weeps for the maiden who is buried below,
alone beneath the ground.
Her true lover had died, as did she in suicide
And so she weeps too for his body that was taken away,
Buried afar and away in the country side.

Why does the poor, little Willow weep?
Is sadness all that she knows?
She weeps for the children, who died in the winter,
Their roots just beginning to grow.
She watches them now, as they sleep evermore,
And she curses the bitter, white snow.

Why does the barren Willow weep?
Her leaves having fallen like rain.
She looks out over a battlefield,
Where many a man was slain.
Brothers they were though not by blood,
But now blood is all that remains.

Why does the ancient Willow weep?
I asked her this one day.
But not a word would she speak to me,
nor a single hint she gave.

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Lupar, in the year 569 AF.