I, Willow

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What does the young willow
Have in common with one like me?
I am not graceful like her sweeping boughs
Nor do I hide away beautiful secrets
Like those shaded nooks betwixt trunk and leaf
                       However
When put under duress, the willow bends
But does not break.
She stretches to the will of her enemy
Then snaps back into place when the least expect
Leaving them to wonder at the strength in something
Once thought to be so small

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