She's beautiful.

A beautiful willow so set in her place.

She towered above the rest.

In the beauty she touched every passerby.

With apart of themselves she revived.

And clueless to her, smiles and tears she could cure.

They took that part of themselves and walked on.

After moons and moons have rose and fallen.

At her crooked brave feet.

Her time to fall with the sun had come and long gone.

For a soul had declared her time was well spent.

They would pull her and cut her from within.

And passers would watch, and they would feel that part dim.

For with her, their souls would fall.

Like apart of their lives she lived.

She could show them their peace.

And yet they would turn their backs.

On that piece of themselves.