The Willow and the Rose

Once,

there was a great arcing willow

and an unspeakably beautiful rose

the two were very different,

but they loved each other’s company so.

The willow,

she was strong and limber

with cascading, flowering hair

and she had never known misfortune-

how it really was

or how it felt.

The willow,

she loved the rose,

but she felt there was something she couldn’t quite place her finger on,

something the matter with her rose.

The rose,

she was a brilliant scarlet

so perfectly crafted as to stand out from the rest

but one day her scarlet paled a bit-

a burning burgundy

and she couldn’t quite explain how she felt.

The rose,

she loved the willow,

so she turned away to hide the truth form her

as a few of her petals fell to the ground.

The willow and the rose

carried on, of course

but as the rose paled and wilted,

the willow grew worried about her rose.

No words were uttered on the subject

but it was present all the same

and the willow did what she could

she caressed her with her boughs

to let her know she was loved

and she kept a careful watch

because it was all she could do.

The willow,

she sometimes wept

when the rose looked away

because that scarlet turned to

burgundy

then pink

then finally, a dusty shade

and only time could tell

when or if the scarlet would be revived

but her beauty was omnipresent

for who could not love such a special rose?

Oh,

it scared the willow so

and helpless she certainly felt

for her heart was an anchor

as long as her rose was aching and ailing.

And so,

as much as it pained her,

she waited and waited for that familiar blush to return

always made to watch each sunset with her rose

because time is a healer

but it can also be a thief

and there was just no telling

when or under what circumstance

time and the rose would finish their dance.

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