Weeping Withered

After a staggering number of years, growing and growing, when the gentlest of giants in my backyard finally reached the sky, he decided to rest. I can remember when I was barely tall enough to climb him, the wisps of his tentacles would caress my limbs as I inched my way up the willow's body. He'll never caress anything again, but if you look closely, you can see the remnants of his wisps, frozen on a slant, as if billowing in the wind. It almost makes me feel like he's still weeping after all these years. Goodbye, Old Friend.