The Weeping Willow
Platonic Love
Under the tree is where we’ll be, cocooned by the drooping branches and the abundance of green. Where our story began. Sat on our favourite blanket, that old, worn picnic blanket. Its fibers still fuzzy and warm from our younger bodies. Smells like pubescent teens and carefree scenes. Our bodies lie there supine; our faces turned towards the sky. Sunrays flicker between the leaves, brightening our eyes and kissing our rosy cheeks. Staring at the ocean above and the rippling clouds our favourite pass time. It’s our first cloud. I point up and up and up towards the light, carefully tracing its outline. It’s a duck. No, wait, it’s a swan. I turn to you. You squint, puzzled. I stare for a moment. You frown…and then we laugh. I love your laugh; it’s infectious. It’s the same one you’ve had since we were kids.
I reach for our drinks. You got caramel, I got iced. I always get iced coffee because I know you’ll want a sip. You ask politely, and so I let you. Just one though otherwise, you get carried away, slurp…slurp. Your eyes begin to crinkle, and your lips begin to fasten. Brain freeze. I told you not to get carried away. You roll your eyes, and there’s that laugh again. You reach for your satchel and pull out a bruised book. Its cover detraining, its spine crippling.
Romeo and Juliet.
You turn to your favourite scene. ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow’ you say, and indeed it is. The sun always smiles when your presence is near. Life is shown in its purest form. The beautiful quartet of birds begins to sing, and the deer are no longer in distress. The grey clouds part like the red sea, and the dandelion clocks flutter, and one by one, they drift away.
I offer you my hand as Romeo would do Juliet. I’ll lead, you follow. And a one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four, one-two. Soon we’re mirroring each other, and our footsteps form a melody of merriment. Our innocence starts to intertwine, and I feel free again. We dance out of time like little children, skipping and galloping and spinning and twirling. The wind picks up, catching your hair in its tracks. Your red, auburn hair dances aimlessly. Sunlight bounces along each and every strand; everything’s moving in slow motion. ‘For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night’. Ring a ring o’ roses, a pocket full of posies, a tissue, a tissue we all fall down, and we do. Our legs turn to jelly; I feel a blurriness in my belly. Dizzy…dizzy…really dizzy. Your body and mine fall to the ground as tired dominos do. My head falls back into my hands, completely Zen. You begin to caress the prickly green grass with your fingertips, it tickles, and you giggle. There’s that laugh again.
‘Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow’. And there will be a tomorrow and a tomorrow after that because I love you, and you love me. I will wait a thousand nights and a thousand seasons under the weeping willow tree. Till the leaves turn dark, and the soil grows drier. Till the leaves are bright and the colour of fire. Till spring starts to bloom, till the summer nights beneath the moon. That’s where we are, and that’s where we’ll always be, under the weeping willow tree.
Like this prose poetry piece? Have you read my other pieces on the definitions of love? See the other definitions below…
Self-Doubt- https://medium.com/@crystaljadalewiswrites/a-letter-to-my-skin-eac9756788e9
Unrequited Love- https://medium.com/@crystaljadalewiswrites/the-everlasting-flower-6724a37650f4
Unconditional Love- https://medium.com/@crystaljadalewiswrites/a-lone-wolf-f23f92e3bf4f
Self-Love- https://medium.com/@crystaljadalewiswrites/the-majestic-peacock-bebe6b1f0594
