You there Under the willow Why do you weep so Your fists clench Your teeth grate You rock back and forth Eyes puffy and bloodshot Curled up in a ball

You there Under the willow I don’t understand, no? It’s a nice summer day The birds are chirping Critters frolicking Sun shining down With a breeze

You there Under the willow Why do those tears flow Take a breath Dry those eyes Let the sun in Feel alive

Oh, there Over there I see A crying child Beneath that Willow tree

Why are they crying? Are they just sad Or is someone they know Dying?

Is it someone I killed? Is it someone I’ve tasted?

Oh, crying child Why do you weep? You look like a cherry Your cheeks so red, sweet

No, keep crying Don’t pay me mind Keep crying for something While I come from behind

Shh, child Do not weep no longer Oh, the choking sounds That escape you, fonder

The crying child Is no more All limp in my arms Fitting right in the car door

No one was there Except that Willow tree But it will never stop crying It will always weep

(Uhm. So, it’s kinda rhyming but NOT. Thank for reading.)

I see a wonderful willow tree in the distance It’s beauty taking my breath away I glance to the bench to see a older lady overfilled with her emotions

I stand there not knowing what to do Wondering what could be happening in her head What kind of thoughts are taking over her feelings

I walk over to her and sit there in silence Not knowing what to do What to say

We look over at each other making eye contact Still not saying a word But I can see the tears in her eyes A river flowing behind closed doors

I see her gray hair shining in the sun Her dress lying there sadly on the bench While her green eyes are staring at me

And finally she speaks Which looks like it was a mighty effort “You Look just like my daughter”

• • • Idk if this is considered poetry or just a story but here it is. It’s kinda weird because it’s kinda like a story but structured like poetry?? Cause I’ve never written anything other than poetry so Idk how to write regular stories. so I don’t really know what this is. But anyways, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

The willow weeps enough alone You need not cry with it

I hope you understand I need someone who understands And Every strand Of emerald leaves that falls like tears from the strong trunk of the great tree Knows me better Than I know the back of my own hand I have someone who understands Why should I keep looking? I’ll sit and cry Beneath sky Beneath the tree Because the willow is the only one who weeps with me.

When the willow wilts

Do you cry because you feel its pain?

Do you understand the leaves dropping

Are like tears falling?

Do you understand

That the color changing

Are the wrinkles forming?

Do you cry because you feel sympathy for the tree

Or do you cry

Because you feel empathy for yourself?

You wilting

waining,

Wandering

Wondering

willow tree

I see you there A tear rolls down your face You play with your hair Leaving me feeling out of place

If I go up, will you yell? Or will you smile? Will you give me hell, Or let me stay awhile?

Willows branches swing Covering you like an angel You’re the most beautiful thing It’s almost painful

To see you cry It hurts my heart Let me dry your eyes And let’s restart

I’m a boy, Who likes poetry You’re a girl full of joy Crying under a willow tree

in a bright blue beanie _ _ under a willow tree _ she sits_ _ and i cant tell_ who is weeping more — _ her,_ _ or the willow?_

I go to leave the day shift But a noise interrupts I hear a crying on my trip I went almost numb

The crying was gut-wrenching To me and my heart Though I went to soften their denting I witnessed a high in their cards

I walked away with distain Not encouraging those who are smug In a world of phones, you must refrain Because attention is a hell of a drug

I’ve seen a strange girl. She has icy blue eyes And silver hair. She looks cold and unfeeling, But I know what she’s really like. I watch her every day. I’ve figured out her routine. She leaves school two minutes after the dismissal bell rings. 3:32. It takes her seven minutes to get to the park, The one on the outskirts of our town. 3:39. She walks for another four minutes into the woods. 3:43. When she gets there, she sits by the Willow tree. She cries for eight minutes, occasionally nine. 3:51. While she cries, she whispers things. Sometimes she whispers about what the kids at school do. They say things to her- Do things to her. The kids at school don’t like her eyes, Or her hair. They don’t see her like I do. My strange little angel. I like it when she whispers names. Names makes it easier. That way I don’t have to figure out who did what. I don’t like talking to people. But when she whispers names, She makes everything easier. Someday she’ll do that for me, Intentionally. But now she doesn’t realize how much she helps me. The names she says, I tuck them away in my mind. Later, when she’s safely asleep, I find the people she mentions.

They don’t ever hurt her again.

They don’t ever hurt anyone.

A silent observer I am As I watch her weep How I wish I could tell her she is not weak.

I reach out to comfort her Only to find I cannot touch her Or confide

I tell her I love her Even if she cannot hear One day we will meet again And all will be healed