The Weeping Willow had always cried.

It were from boys who pulled her ribboned pigtails as if they were church bells,

But instead of hearing the chime, they loved watching weeping willow cry

It were from the paper cranes that got stuck and tangled in her hair after someone had said they just ‘wanted to play’

It were from blocks they always shook until her castle was no longer stood.

Weeping Willow would hide and sulk,

Was bothered anyone would look.

Was bother anyone would find her and make her pour her heart out, for all the eyes to look.

But Weeping Willow found her place,

And by the tear filled river she left her grace.

As her feet sank to the bottom,

Her hair covered her tear stained face.

And as time went on, Weeping Willow’s pigtails were no longer there, but replaced with a beautiful stream of down flowing lance-shaped hair.