Weeping, Whipping Willow tree,

Weep no more for little me...

What's in the past has gone you see, I am not bitter, or angry.

They made me pick a branch from you

A switch to teach me...

A stripe or two...

The sting, the burn, oh it hurt- but not near as cruel ,

the humiliation it birthed.

The scars have healed.

I'm not angry anymore,

They really did mean well and that's all they knew before.

I gaze at the tree I used to hate,

Weeping Whipping Willow...

How beautiful you are,

your branches sway in the breeze,

the sun light dances among your gentle green leaves.

You are lovely to me.

Weeping Willow, my favorite tree.

By Missy