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.
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