Weeping Willow Poem Novels & Stories

Willow's POV The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint rustle of leaves as I stood by the riverbank, a chill creeping through my bones. The moon hung full and bright above me, illuminating the water in shimmering waves that danced like whispers of magic. But there was something else in the air, an intangible force pulling at my very essence as if the night itself was trying to draw me in.

Rose was reciting Yi Shu’s prose poem, ‘To Oak Tree’. “If I ever love you, “I’ll never be like the scrambling trumpet creepers, showing off by your branch high up in the sky; “I must be a ceiba near you, standing beside you as a tree. “Our roots, holding the earth tightly; our leaves touching each other in the clouds. With each passing wind, we send our regards to each other, but nobody can understand our language. You have your tough branches made of copper and iron, like falchions, like swords, and also like halberds.

That, along with Dante's presence, was enough for her. Willow stood beside the stream and shut her eyes. She listened to the rushing of water over tiny pebbles. The whistle of the wind through the branches. The rustle of the leaves of the canopy. Willow spread her arms out away from her sides with her palms facing outward. The breeze grazed her cheeks, her nose and her neck. It ruffled her black locks. She shifted her focus inward into herself. Each breath inhaled and exhaled through her lungs. The steady heartbeat in her chest. The white energy that pulsed deeper past her heart. She imagined reaching out to it and grabbing it gently, like it was this delicate being.

"At the bustling sound of the frost early in the morning, I woke up from my sleep and it was still pitch black I sat by myself and gazed through my window at the moonlight that grows darker I worry the flowers I picked aside for my beloved will start to wither Under the stars in the long, long night Only the unfinished night seems to be passing. I see my beloved face from within those weeping willows. Even if I look and look at her, I don't seem to get enough. Even if she's standing under the bright moon in the dead of the night, the shadow of my beloved would come into my yard. A matchless beauty is left within my heart."

The tips of her ears and tail had hints of brown in them. "Luke? What in the hell is happening to me?" Willow's POV... I woke in a sweat as my nightmares were starting to feel more and more real. I got up and walked out onto the porch. The cold air felt amazing. My body was on fire and it was tingling. I felt like something was crawling on me. No not on me but inside me. I looked out trying to calm myself when I saw Jim come flying out of the house.

she cuts him off by saying, "Crawford, is it not rude if you haven't awakened my brothers yet?" "We don't need your brothers at the moment, Willow." "But I need them...you know how much Griffin hates them...and what if we give her a little lesson?" she had this wide smirk on her face and he thought about it for a second then gave a nod. Amid the night, where the moon was full, at a distance there were the howls of the wolves, the owls hooted and it was Crawford and Willow standing on the shore. The waves of the water became wild unexpectedly, it was Willow who was continuously chanting with her eyes closed and hands raised towards the dark sky.

Unfortunately, he didn't have my weapon of choice (bow and arrow) but anything was better than being unarmed. I noticed him take a lasting glance around the hallway of the house as we left before he shut the door behind us and let out a deep sigh. "I hadn't noticed that tree last night," I said looking over to an elegant weeping willow that stood a few hundred yards left of the house. "Isn't it wonderful?" It's sweeping branches hung down and trailed on the floor with pale green leaves that practically glowed in the sunlight. The trunk, just visible through the curtain of branches, was thick with folds of wrinkled bark, like the elderly skin of a wise man.

Mine. “Mate.” I said, with a voice of longing. Willow’s hair started floating like an unseen force was causing it to rise. Hot air was flowing from her, and I felt like the final piece to my puzzle was about to be placed. Following her instinct, Willow held her palms up to meet mine, her entire body ignited like a torch. Blood red flames mixed with no other colors as it surrounded her. Her fire burned like mine. It was as if heaven and hell opened up and poured power down onto us. Our flames intertwine around each other like a cyclone. Blue and red were blending, turning so hard and fast that everyone around us was nothing but a blur.

In those vulnerable moments, Willowhart had been a steadfast presence, nurturing me back to health with a tenderness that lingered in my memory. As if on cue, Willowhart entered the room with graceful ease, her hands deftly balancing a tray bearing two cups of steaming tea. The delicate aroma of chamomile and mint enveloped the space, creating an atmosphere akin to a serene garden within our sanctuary. As Willowhart drew closer, the warmth radiating from the cups seemed to envelop me, offering a tangible comfort that transcended mere beverage. "You're up already, Sheila dear," Willowhart's voice, soft and melodic, broke the tranquil ambiance. "How are you feeling today?"

Her heart thumps in excitement as the tree's branches welcome her into its arms. "Oh, Grandmother Willow," said Ruby. Tears swelled into her eyes. Running to the tree she hugged it's trunk and embraced her warmth. The tree's branches hugged her tightly. Like always, no matter how long she was gone, or wherever she's been, the peach blossom tree will always be waiting for her. As Ruby sniffled her tears, she thought, "Grandmother Willow will you wait like this for forever?" In a voice, only Ruby could hear her Grandmother Willow say, "My dear child. You..." The voice stopped when she looked at Ruby's face, it was covered in tears.