Why Does A Willow? Short Story

Why does a willow bend upside down
Its branches floating by the ground
Instead of reaching for the sky?
Who made it droop so low?
Twas I.

It happened rather randomly it’s branches towards the sky 
(For if you didn't know this- willows branched once grew high)
Bursting upwards like an oak, as sturdy as a Pine,
And under it, when I was small I'd play their all the time.
This tree and I grew very close, though I too small to climb,
I spent all days and nights by it,
Until, one day, it cried.
It’s sorrow filled the air itself and brought on golden tears 
Airy songs like chirping doves did leave me wrought with fear.

I didn't want the tree to cry, 
As its tears turned mud from soil.
And so I tried some remedies- 
'Twas treated as a royal.
But nothing worked 
To no avail whatever could be wrong? 
It’s branches, long and straight before now bent with every song. 
It’s leaves once reaching towards the sky now whipped and kicked and swayed 
The little pond that it sat on would gurgled in dismay. 

I covered my small ears at this, as weeping willow wailed.
And wondered when the bended tree would tell me of its ails 
My ears would never rest until a potion could be found 
To lift the saddened willows leaves 
From the dirty grimy ground. 

"Sweet tree!" I cried , my own brown eyes now blurred with aching tears, 
"Please tell me why your weeping so, and I'll allay your fears!"
I stretched my head far back
To see its branches sway above
And placed my tiny hand around its leaf just out of love.
"I've done my best to keep your leaves from turning brown with mud, 
But tell me why you cry so low, transfixed by water suds!” 

Suddenly I braced myself as the bark than cracked and moaned 
The song that lilted on the wind straight to my ears were thrown
lyrics in a different tongue with ancient melody 
Softly madly crying sadly told of its story. 

Oh tiny child, pigtails bright, I've grown attached to you!
Your gentle soul and heart of gold-
My love for you is true.
And yet I can't protect you like a mother loves her babe.
I can not stroke your lovely face; all I do is give you shade.
Alas! My leaves do not reach far enough to give a longed embrace 
My willowed heart is broken as I can not kiss your face!

I tried to calm and sooth the tree,
Upset and wanting hugs,
Its song of sorrow echoed as I touched its earthen bark.
"If only." I said sorrowfully, "your arms could reach the ground,
Regrettably your oaken shape, like pine, is upward bound!"

At this the tree made up its mind
Its oaken shape must go
Giving one last anguished cry it willed its branches grow. It
r   e   a   c   h   e   d   
        and
s t r e t c h e d
        and   
c u r v  e d 
itself, its fingered fronds slowly dropped!
Its branches thinning at the tips. A slender graceful swap.
It’s glowing heart inside it’s trunk,
It’s soul inside it’s roots 
Has inverted its willowed top
So that its leaves may droop. 
It’s branches had turned from the sky, it's leaves cascading low
So that the weeping willow tree
Could give me all its love.

It cried for joy then kissed my forehead
And its leaves then fluffed my hair,
Its golden tears flowed freely as it finally hugged me near.
Its branches sound of satin
And they fly freely as a silk
While to it, I feel of clay and earth
A flower yet to wilt. 

From here I picked the willows name, 
Though it’s weeping has since gone.
Ever grateful that, for me, it wished to bend its fronds.
And every seed thereafter from this tree has felt it still
Never keeping oaken form
But bending down at will.
For willow's feel so very deeply, unlike a pine or spruce
They'd rather care for tiny humans running 'round its roots.
So welcoming, so motherly
They can't protect from up above.
That’s why a willow bends so low;
To see the ones they love.