Willows

Standing high on the mountain terrain

Shading every shadow passing by

Looking through the breaches though

To help some dysphoric being;

Bounteous is their nature, relinquished while facilitating

Never hovering over what they do, to support any revered soul;

Being there for centuries, facing the brunts of time

The Willows sustaining the wrath, without the utterance of any anguish;

Pride never alluding them, tho' sky is their throttle

Bumping ways to encounter mortals, who are anguished and need support;

Smouldering as the time passes by

Leaving past a history in themselves

Envisioning that no soul is left

Without the tending of their's!