Beneath the ancient willow, where tender shadows play,
A symphony of whispers, in the breeze, softly sway.
Leaves, like gentle harp strings, caress the passing wind,
Creating melodies that speak of where they've been.
The branches tell tales of yesteryears, in their graceful descent,
Of seasons passed in elegance, and moments sweetly spent.
The roots, entwined with earth and time, anchor stories deep,
Securing the memories, in a timeless, subterranean keep.
Sunlight filters through the foliage, in a dappled, dancing light,
Caressing every whispering leaf, with touches soft and bright.
A sanctuary of serenity, where the quiet does converse,
The willow sings in gentle tones, a calming, verdant verse.
Beneath its ample, swayin
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