The weeping willow is a mystical thing, but its one I find beautiful.
Instead of flourishing towards the sun, it grows towards its friend, the water.
Oh sure, it needs sunlight to sprout and stand tall and proud, but the willow chooses the soft ripples where the moon likes to prowl.
It's a somber sort of tree, more shy than it's neighbors. It stands tall, but doesn't boast like the red oak or maple.
It's a kind tree, one that lends you a pinch of sugar when needed and is there to help with your sorrows.
She's the older lady who calls you darling and invites you for afternoon tea and cookies.
The willow is the friend you need when you can't see a future in tomorrow.