Where there once was a willow tree, out-broke some purple Daisy flowers. Indeed smelling of lavender. The grass grew dim and the sun always setting. Where there was a will was a way reminded the willow tree. Birds seemed to re-speech what was said. Crows my loveliest animals out of this bunch, just because... Well there was a book about a wishing well they've all heard of- far away. Here the rain was enough supply- The mothers, all friends- the fathers also. My favorite was pumpkin soup.
They stayed living to out the smell of something sleepy. The willow tree became like the wishing well, and here we all are, solemnly.

© Clarissa C. van Vreden