That willow tree,
that willow tree we found behind the park and between the houses.
A alley walk down where the dog would bark its head off and
where that family would barbeque with their soulful music.
That willow tree became our treehouse.
The noon sun peeked between the lengthy vines and kissed our faces.
It kept us cool when the sun was just too hot to handle.
From fruit picnics and polaroid pictures,
to a dead squirrel in the road and naked vines with tore off leaves,
It was a place we hugged.
A place we kissed,
grew,
learned,
laughed,
thought.
It was a place where people can walk by,
smile, and see how happy we were.
It was our willow tree.