It’s almost funny,
Everyone has a twin somewhere.
A person to mirror mind and body,
Mine is a tree.
Our limbs weighted, bowed down,
Nothing proud in our stances.
Fuzzy green flowers, dull limp hair,
Caterpillars amongst butterflies.
Leafy and saline, ever flow
Long in length, long in life.
Bound by water,
The water that took my Henry.
The water that feeds my life as widow,
Sustains my twin, the weeping willow.