Under the Weeping Willow Tree
For there we were
Young and naive
Rosalind and I
Laid about
As us young girls
Giggling and carefree
Sat under the weeping willow tree

Not caring about the world
With it's stereotypical means
Of course as Rosalind and I grew
Mother Earth had wicked schemes
Taking us young girls into ladies
Not quite mature nor sweet
Leaving innocence under the weeping willow tree

She blossomed into a butterfly
While I morphed into a moth
Rosalind and I
Distant but not gone
Were once young girls
Now in school girl cliques
Have forgotten about that weeping willow tree

On the eve of December
Balefully cold
After years of a lost friendship
Finally Rosalind and I
Walked together again
Us not so young girls faced each other
Then turned to face what was once our tree

Then my gloved hand
Slid the edge of jealousy to her heart
For there was no more Rosalind and I
She belted my name as I ran
Taking a glance back I saw her
Lifeless, under my weeping willow tree