A girl once dreamed of a willow tree so beautiful, that people would lay beneath it.
They would share romantic stories with its sturdy roots and dance among the branches.
Dainty flowers flowed down from its wispy veins smelling of spring rain and
Cumulonimbus clouds coasted the canopy to shower her willow's soil
She planted a willow tree that established its roots, but didn't grow.
Honey bees made sweet sugars from her hanging fruit, but
Unfamiliar hands forcefully caressed her bark and
One day the leaves turned brown and wilted away.
The girl begged them to cease, but alas her voice was stolen.
Her willow was sick;
A damaged soul now lay beneath her crop
And her honey bees no longer visit.
Irises that once mirrored the constellations perished when A vile parasite pressed its lips against the base of her tree and Promised the garden that it would still thrive; A lie so wicked-- it lingered over the bones of her willow.
The rain, once rich with nutrients was now poisoned by deceit
And the golden sunsets that provided for her leaves
Were snatched up by shadows of blue and purple.
The leaves, which once cloaked her willow tree, are now shed
And she never had a chance to weep.
The girl forgot how to dance and the stories she knew didn't sound the same.
Her soil was parched and ice cold to the touch; now
She won't grasp the willow's dirt between her fingers like she used to.
Her purest thoughts were destroyed by sin and so
She became the willow tree.
She doesn't remember her dream.