The Magic of teh Weeping Willow Tree

Stood beneath the weeping willows
On a magical midsummer night’s eve
I looked up to see the spindly leaves
Swaying ever so slightly in the wind.

And point the way to a treasure hitherto unseen
Vast and bountiful in its riches
Gold and silver and precious gems of old
Their sparkle bringing shine into every eye that perceives.

Oh! Such misery it brings
Pain and sorrow and raging wars of mighty bloodshed
Wealth and happiness
Oh! Never the twain shall meet!

Happy are those who can stand beneath the whispering willows
On a midsummer night’s eve
And hear the sweet siren song of the nightingale
And feel the raindrops on their skin!

Oh happy are those that can feel the pure pleasure that floods their veins
That calm all encompassing
The peace every heart yearns for
Feel the breeze blessed with the sweet scent of the fresh spring-blooms.

And feel the silent beckoning
Not of the snares of dark wealth, not of greed that transcends to grief
But of sweet serenity ever so pure and enchanting
A peace everlasting!