The flower and the willow tree
Both beautiful as can be
Blow different ways to the wind’s tune
And every night just before the moon
They find each other along the lagoon.
The Willow tree has become frail and old
The flower blossomed, and its leaves began to fold
Its seeds had gone on to start anew.
The willow wouldn’t let go, unlike a few seeds who
traveled on
knowing the trip ahead would be dangerous and long
They’re able to sing their own songs
Grateful to the flower that gave them a chance
To blow with the wind and grow and dance.

 
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