Hop on, story master, 
The one that would not let 
Her intuition run away
Through the back door. 
 
Unrelenting stride
Heading towards
The crying tree
The willow
That my dad pruned.

It had to die
And with one last cry
It got swallowed up by the earth. 
 
Rest in peace majestic willow
The one beautiful backdrop 
To my endless summer holidays.

When I was a child
And then you die
With your unrelenting stride.
Story master leaves.