Weeping Willows

I grew up near a willow tree lined river. Flowing was the water, showing in its mirror were the willow trees. In the wind the weeping willows played the water like a harp.

 

At a young age I didn’t appreciate the willows at all as I was a stiff oak. Now I’m a willow. When life gets to be too heavy, I’ve learned to bend like the willow tree, so that I do not break.

Done