The Weeping Willow

The weeping willow dips its hair,

In waters still, a mirrored tear.

A wispy breeze, a mournful sigh,

Through branches bare against the sky.

A lone bird calls, its song forlorn,

An echo in the fields of dawn.

The sun awakes, a muted glow,

On memories of what used to grow.

A path untrod, a garden choked,

Where laughter danced, where dreams invoked.

Now silence reigns, a heavy cloak,

And whispers lost where roses choke.

The heart remembers, bittersweet,

A love that bloomed, then turned to sleet.

The weight of absence, cold and stark,

A lonely soul in the fading dark.