The soft willow tree
swayed in the wind
and breathed with the sea

It’s branches became twisted
more rigid and splintered
It’s breath more ragged

It’s roots stopped growing
The trunk turned dark
leaves fell one by one until nothing was left

Dried out standing alone
It began to rot

No one likes a rotted tree

No one likes a lost soul

A smaller tree sprouted in a new place
Near the ocean

It didn’t sway as softly
Or breathe with the sea
But
it
never
let
itself
rot