The Weeping Willow’s luscious leather leaves,

Hung like a roost of blood-sucking bats,

Clinging to a crocked cavern  crumbling like mouth-watering cake,

Swaying in the wandering wind like a ship being tossed in a stormy sea.

The Weeping Willow’s towering trunk,

Stood tall and proud like a mountain in the Himalayas,

Its chocolate coloured bark engraved like a hidden map,

Waiting to be revealed by the greatest explorers.

The Weeping Willow’s blossoming branches,

Bow down like climbing cobras waiting for prey,

Drooping like a flower without water,

Its tips brushing the ground as smooth as honey.

The Weeping Willow’s rough roots,

Snake down like vipers ready to ambush,

Tangled like a sea of noodles,

As thick as anacondas.