Under the weeping willow tree

There she sits and cries.

Having lost her one true love she wants to sleep.

Sitting beneath the Willow weeping as her heart dies.

Having no longer her lovers heart to keep.

Staring at the blade in her hand.

She lays there and thinks about her life.

Wishing to leave this hurt filled land.

Having made her choice she stabs her heart with the knife.

The cruel world becomes a distant dream.

In the mist she finds her one true love.

Off in the distance the lovers see a gleam.

There in the old willow they see a dove.

The lovers run to the ancient tree.

They look where the dove nests in its tear shaped hollow.

They embrace and cry with glee.

For the dove is a symbol that no matter where they go.