The Weeping Willow of Words

It’s odd to be older

Than those that you’ve grown with

Those stories that rest on your shoulder

The adventures you went on without a hitch

A protagonist you saw grow up before you

Now stays in folded pages, younger than your days

It’s a thought that comes, jarring but true

That even though you grow, they will forever stay

Those heroes that made you who you are

Stuck forever never changing 

Idols to calm me down

Idols whom, in my view, wear a golden crown

Idols that are viewed with eyes of green, and blue, and brown

Strangers I will never meet, only ever get to see

Because when it all comes down to it, why should they care for me?

I myself am just a number, just one in their adorers who’s masses could fill a sea

Idols that I aspire to be

Though, I have learned one thing to be key

Everyone knows of the same place--

A tree upon a hill

Her leaves drape down like comforting arms

Her trunk stands firm and strong--

But what they do not see is dew,

Water pent up inside--

Tears forever kept away from

Those she loves and protects

Leaves too short to reach them all--

And keep them safe every day

The Weeping Willow stands alone,