Weeping Willow
She's exhausted and spent,
looking beaten and bent.
And like Medusa's locks,
Her coiffure awes and shocks.
Slumping, She never sleeps,
humming songs as She weeps.
And while mimicking birds,
the wind whistles the words.
She sheds raindrops like tears,
stifling the children's cheers.
For like the fickle sun,
Her tears ruin their fun.
Flailing branches of green,
She's a sight to be seen.
For wailing with each breeze,
She's unlike other trees.
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