The big weeping willow
stands in the background,
of our favorite spot.
We come here on the good days,
on the bad days,
on everyday we can.
On hot days
we sit beneath the willow.
On cloudy days
We lay with our heads peeking,
out from under the branches.
The days we come
grow farther and farther apart.
They soon stop,
suddenly and all together.
I come here by myself now,
and sit beneath the willow,
I sit beside your grave.