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.