Of Willows, Whispers, and Hope

Under the cloudy sky,

gray,

hopeless,

a willow tree with silent elegance stands,

watching the treeless land before it,

a safe haven for those in need.

A lone soul sits beneath the willow,

remembering,

waiting,

waiting for a boy that would run through the grass with her,

waiting for the man that boy had become,

waiting for a man that could not come.

She listens to the breeze rustle the willow leaves,

a memorial,

a reminder,

a reminder of the whispers they had shared on stormy nights,

a reminder of the gentle playfulness she had loved,

a reminder of the hopeful past.

She feels the breeze brush her cheek,

gentle and comforting, yet

a cruel comfort

a cruel comfort reminding her of the kiss he had planted there,

a cruel comfort reminding her that that kiss had been his last,

a cruel comfort that that kiss would never be repeated.

There that lone soul waited,

and remembered,

another soul she had loved so much.

There she sat and cursed the cruelty of war,

the cruelty of a pointless war that harmed everyone,

a pointless war with no gain.

For that war had cost her everything,

her love,

her life,

for that love was all she wanted in life,

yet that love was gone,

destroyed.

A single ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds,

falls across her face.

A single tear trickles down,

a small smile forms.

That single ray of sun from her love,

had filled her with hope.

That ray of sunlight had given her hope,

shown her that she needed to live,

to continue her life,

to use her life to bring joy to others,

to bring love to others,

to honor her lost love's memory.

The hopeful lone soul stands,

and looks off to the horizon,

to the future,

to the life she still has before her,

and begins to walk,

slowly but surely.