Oh weeping willow! You cause me to ruminate upon the tears that slide along slender, lachrymose blades, enshrouding your stooped form. My calm examination leaves me to conclude that your legion of keen leaves exist only to sheathe the humiliation of your failure. I consider your timid stance a decrepit show of defiance which makes me think: You are not a weeping willow, but a living statue; the frozen image of opprobrium. ----------------------------------------------------------- This is how I write willow poems luckjoe... enjoy the curse that I just did engrave and burn on your forehead.