Microbookends – Love / Craft

WILLOW TREE

“Love you not. Love you I will.”

The struggle was brief. Blood seeped into Earth.

From it grew a willow tree, for none other would put down roots where such evil had occurred.

Iron succoured its roots and, strengthened, it began to mock the sun.

Spring blossom or summer leaf never touched it spindly branches.

It bided its time.

“Love you not. Love you I will”

The struggle was brief. Blood seeped into Earth.

Gnarled fingers drew the man a-quarter.

“Come learn the power of your sex” the willow whispered enveloping the woman in its bark.

“In time they will call you witch, but not before I’ve honed your craft”

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Microbookends – Love / Craft

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