There is an old gentleman in the fields,
A loner amidst young seeds whom he shields.
His loving branches protect those around him from harm,
Tactfully repelling enemies with woeful charm.
This is the life of the weeping willow. 5
The wind, it blows, whistling through the quaking leaves,
Resounding the melancholy song as the gentleman grieves.
The cold silence from others are why his branches are drooping,
Yet to help green seedlings is also a reason to why he is stooping.
This is the life of the weeping willow. 10
To the youths he only is an old tree offering them security and care.
Amongst the juveniles the old gentleman would find love for him nowhere.
He is shunned, rejected, and acknowledged not.
Many times like these he feels he will be cut down, left as a stump to rot.
This is the life of the weeping willow. 15
Standing above the grove, so old and tall, he remains alone,
Feeling as if he had been chopped down and given a headstone.
Those who hurt him the most are the grown, but younger, trees whom he shields,
But although he is shunned and rejected, he still loves those in the fields.
This is the life of the weeping willow. 20