Weeping willow

Rain falls sloshing down,
In the end is's pitter-pattering on the ground.
It falls to the willow trees,
And drips down like tears,
As if the Willow is really weeping.

The Willow,
Always in it's darkest hour.
While the Willow is weeping,
It is giving off a powerful glow,
A glow so uinque,
Only the Willow,
Can call it it's own.
The Willows tears trickle down it's face,
As if the world,
Is too much of a dissgrace.
Sad like a little child,
Who can not retrace his footsteps,
To find his way home.

The Willow tree,
Whoes cry is the howling wind
One who is not ashamed of his tears,
But weares them like a metal.
And yet still the rain falls down,
Pitter-pattering,
On the ground.