She whips her hair back and forth. She does it wildly. She does it seductively, but she is only nine. The cause of vicious jealousy in other nine year olds, in twelve year olds, in middle age women. No more
the willows branches are as those same on the pillows in my grandmothers house. i can still see her shadow rounding the soft corner on our arrival, lonely
“Weeping like a willow, eh?” Thade smiled sweetly, touching Ishaura’s shoulder gently.
“….. What the fuck is a willow?” Her voice was almost annoying, but curious as well. The man chuckled, in his mind he saw the grand weeping willows, branches flowing like tears. But Ishaura didn’t even know what a tree was, let alone a specific type.
“An old beauty of an old world.” His voice, usually joyous and silly, was suddenly old and distant.
“You’re weird.”
There he was, suspended in some sort of glass cage, limp like a Weeping willow tree. A breeze easily made his arms and head sway back and forth. I came up close to the glass and stretched out my hand, but I couldn’t touch him.
The branches dipped low brushing the ground with the winter wind. He stood huddled against the trunk waiting. She would be along soon. He would see her if only from the distance.
the tree swayed back and forth, a passage of time. Underneath a girl rested waiting for a rabbit to get her. “We’re very late for an important date!” He had finally come. She shot him between the eyes and went back to sleep.
A soft tree floats in the wind. A graceful breeze passing by it. A women walks by it, and sits under it for shade. She then opens her favorite book looking into each page intently. She is looking at an art book. She see’s how great the world can truly be in those pages.
a tree- a beautiful, tall tree that branches out- as if reaching towards infinity. Looking to the heavens and asking mother nature for the beautiful night sky that refreshes her as she breathes in deeply, inhaling the most earthy scent
it’s my uncle tom’s favorite picture. after his wedding to aunt donna. i clung to the walls of my fort, peaking through it’s leafy branches. I know that weeping tree well, claiming most of nana and grandpa’s back yard.
I was dressed in white. the flower girl, more truly then ever in the spring of my childhood.
The switch of willow made a light slapping noise when it made contact with her bare skin, but the cry after was resounding. “Tell me where you hid it,” he said, his voice neutral and cold. Wracking sobs were his only answer and the switch landed again with a whipping kind of a swoosh. More sobs and more anguish followed. “Tell me where it is,” he said. “I ran your heart down the garbage disposal, hoping it would kill you!” she sobbed. “Too bad, because now the torture begins in earnest,” he replied, his voice as cold and even as ever.
It bothers me how the only willows people talk about are weeping willows. Not all willows weep. Hell, Tom, the willow on the far side of the lake, won’t shut up about the great joke Bill the heron told him.
Willow trees are old and they remind me of the Boston Common. It’s a drooping willow and my sister and I used to play underneath it, sneaking in and out of it’s branches, hiding from our parents, pretending that we couldn’t be seen. When we were young, that is. I used to love the common. We’d buy just the crusts of bread and feed the ducks.
This is the name Will Smith’s daughter. She is incredibly talented if you didn’t know already. She can whip her hair back and forth like no other. I honestly find inspiration from this 9 year old. Why? Because she is so successful at such an early age. Granted her father helped her get in the industry; but, that doesn’t detract from the fact that she knows where she is going with the things she is doing.
when most hear/see the word willow you think of a tree, a weeping willow.
that also comes to mind when i think of it, but what i truly am thinking of is a sad time,
a willow, not just a tree its more.
Willow is the daughter of Will Smith, and she just came out with the song, “whip my hair.” It’s odd because she is named Willow after him, will, and the boy is named Jaden after the mom Jada. I guess it’s a cool idea.
The whopping willow in Harry Potter is a tree that hurts Harry and Ron in their attempt to fly the flying car to Hogwarts their second year.
is a tree that’s wheepy. a character on buffy the vampire slayer. i think it sort of describes my roommates emotional state. rhymes, or kind of rhymes with hollow. overall, i don’t get a very positive vibe from this word. why can’t you stand up straight like an oak tree?
He stood before the willow, with diary in hand. It’s branches swayed gently. “It’s an omen, this book” he whispered as if to join his own words with the wind. He laid it back to wear it once belonged and walked away, without ever turning back.
I remember there was a movie named Willow and when I was a child we used to go on truck trips with my dad and pick pussy willows on the side of the road, Those are some great memories from my childhood.
I remember my grandmother’s huge weeping willow in her front yard. It was one of many things I loved about her house. How sad I was when I looked at the pictures after her house had burned down, to see hardly anything left of the tree. It wasn’t the house I mourned, but the tree which I spent countless hours under, daydreaming the days away.
The tree stood in the background. He had seen it his entire life. It was a willow. It had grown has he had, and now it was a diseased fragment of what it had been. “I think it will need to be cut down.”
When I was a little kid, I used to pull branches off of my neighbor’s willow tree. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or anything; I just liked the feel of the little cotton ball shaped buds stroking against my skin as I ran them along the width of my palm.
willon is my friend. she is tiny and cute and sweet! willow is also my most favorite tree. it reminds me of pocahontis. which was my favorite disney movie as a kid. its just so free and flowing. it makes me happy to know that there trees are in the world!
Bend me break me anyway you make me… I will sway, I will flex, I may lose a few leaves and branches, but I will not fall. I cannot be defeated, and my roots run deep.
willows are white and fluffly..soft and pretty. willow trees are my favorite. i love the fireworks that look like willow trees, those are my favorite fireworks. i don’t have a lot to say about willows..
Willow was what they called her. I’m not even sure if it was her real name, but because she was so tall and skinny they gave her the nickname. She didn’t particularly like being called Willow for she hated her height and body, but she tolerated it.
People would tell her to be thankful for the body she was given because her size was so desirable. People also told her that her height was also a gift because it gave her to look of a model.
Willow hated everything about herself, but no one understood why.
the willow tree out back of my house is a really great place to have sex with squirrels. im just kidding of corse..its where my grandma reads me stories of her childhood and how she ruled the seven seas as a pirate. haha silly gramma :)
A willow. A slow, whimsical ballet dance. Can you see the emotion in every bend, every step? I hurt. And as the willow tree bends, it bends in silence.
All he did was cry, from the age of 7 to the age of 8. “Blow out your candles and make a wish!” his mother had said to him. And he closed his eyes and did has he was told and then without warning, he started to bawl. And after 365 and one half days, on the morning of his 8th birthday, just as suddenly as it had started, he stopped.
The gentle willow tree sighed softly, gazing down at the wrinkled man who dozed beneath her branches. She tickled his bare head with the tip of a thin branch, remembering the days when he would run and play with the energy she so missed.
she’d tell me, meet me by the willow tree at three o’clock. she was the woman of my dreams. nobody could’ve been as perfect as she was. i waited by the willow tree for three months. she didn’t exist. imagination has never hurt so bad.
A tree, on a hill with branches to the ground. I love what I see, I love this tree. Green, and lofty yet gold and humble. Climb the hill see what I see, beauty.
The willow bent in deep resignation as she hid them from view, knowing the clandestine visit was to be their demise. She was no longer a bystander but she was culpable as they.
She whips her hair back and forth. She does it wildly. She does it seductively, but she is only nine. The cause of vicious jealousy in other nine year olds, in twelve year olds, in middle age women. No more
the willows branches are as those same on the pillows in my grandmothers house. i can still see her shadow rounding the soft corner on our arrival, lonely
“Weeping like a willow, eh?” Thade smiled sweetly, touching Ishaura’s shoulder gently.
“….. What the fuck is a willow?” Her voice was almost annoying, but curious as well. The man chuckled, in his mind he saw the grand weeping willows, branches flowing like tears. But Ishaura didn’t even know what a tree was, let alone a specific type.
“An old beauty of an old world.” His voice, usually joyous and silly, was suddenly old and distant.
“You’re weird.”
There he was, suspended in some sort of glass cage, limp like a Weeping willow tree. A breeze easily made his arms and head sway back and forth. I came up close to the glass and stretched out my hand, but I couldn’t touch him.
We wallowed wistfully under the willow, wondrously waiting for the wind to weaken.
The branches dipped low brushing the ground with the winter wind. He stood huddled against the trunk waiting. She would be along soon. He would see her if only from the distance.
the tree swayed back and forth, a passage of time. Underneath a girl rested waiting for a rabbit to get her. “We’re very late for an important date!” He had finally come. She shot him between the eyes and went back to sleep.
A soft tree floats in the wind. A graceful breeze passing by it. A women walks by it, and sits under it for shade. She then opens her favorite book looking into each page intently. She is looking at an art book. She see’s how great the world can truly be in those pages.
a tree- a beautiful, tall tree that branches out- as if reaching towards infinity. Looking to the heavens and asking mother nature for the beautiful night sky that refreshes her as she breathes in deeply, inhaling the most earthy scent
This word reminds me of simply a tree. Nothing more.
it’s my uncle tom’s favorite picture. after his wedding to aunt donna. i clung to the walls of my fort, peaking through it’s leafy branches. I know that weeping tree well, claiming most of nana and grandpa’s back yard.
I was dressed in white. the flower girl, more truly then ever in the spring of my childhood.
One of my all time favorite albums is by Leon Russell. It is called “Willow the Wisp”. Check it out. Awesome.
The switch of willow made a light slapping noise when it made contact with her bare skin, but the cry after was resounding. “Tell me where you hid it,” he said, his voice neutral and cold. Wracking sobs were his only answer and the switch landed again with a whipping kind of a swoosh. More sobs and more anguish followed. “Tell me where it is,” he said. “I ran your heart down the garbage disposal, hoping it would kill you!” she sobbed. “Too bad, because now the torture begins in earnest,” he replied, his voice as cold and even as ever.
It bothers me how the only willows people talk about are weeping willows. Not all willows weep. Hell, Tom, the willow on the far side of the lake, won’t shut up about the great joke Bill the heron told him.
Willow trees are old and they remind me of the Boston Common. It’s a drooping willow and my sister and I used to play underneath it, sneaking in and out of it’s branches, hiding from our parents, pretending that we couldn’t be seen. When we were young, that is. I used to love the common. We’d buy just the crusts of bread and feed the ducks.
i loved the weeping willow that i imagined as a child when i walked in the forest. they looked like they were asking me to dance.
This is the name Will Smith’s daughter. She is incredibly talented if you didn’t know already. She can whip her hair back and forth like no other. I honestly find inspiration from this 9 year old. Why? Because she is so successful at such an early age. Granted her father helped her get in the industry; but, that doesn’t detract from the fact that she knows where she is going with the things she is doing.
willow dropped the box of razor blades.
there is a beautiful weeping willow outside of my school. looking at is like a quick glimpse into a different, more serene time and place.
when most hear/see the word willow you think of a tree, a weeping willow.
that also comes to mind when i think of it, but what i truly am thinking of is a sad time,
a willow, not just a tree its more.
Willow is the daughter of Will Smith, and she just came out with the song, “whip my hair.” It’s odd because she is named Willow after him, will, and the boy is named Jaden after the mom Jada. I guess it’s a cool idea.
The whopping willow in Harry Potter is a tree that hurts Harry and Ron in their attempt to fly the flying car to Hogwarts their second year.
is a tree that’s wheepy. a character on buffy the vampire slayer. i think it sort of describes my roommates emotional state. rhymes, or kind of rhymes with hollow. overall, i don’t get a very positive vibe from this word. why can’t you stand up straight like an oak tree?
He stood before the willow, with diary in hand. It’s branches swayed gently. “It’s an omen, this book” he whispered as if to join his own words with the wind. He laid it back to wear it once belonged and walked away, without ever turning back.
I remember there was a movie named Willow and when I was a child we used to go on truck trips with my dad and pick pussy willows on the side of the road, Those are some great memories from my childhood.
I remember my grandmother’s huge weeping willow in her front yard. It was one of many things I loved about her house. How sad I was when I looked at the pictures after her house had burned down, to see hardly anything left of the tree. It wasn’t the house I mourned, but the tree which I spent countless hours under, daydreaming the days away.
The tree stood in the background. He had seen it his entire life. It was a willow. It had grown has he had, and now it was a diseased fragment of what it had been. “I think it will need to be cut down.”
When I was a little kid, I used to pull branches off of my neighbor’s willow tree. I wasn’t trying to be cruel or anything; I just liked the feel of the little cotton ball shaped buds stroking against my skin as I ran them along the width of my palm.
willon is my friend. she is tiny and cute and sweet! willow is also my most favorite tree. it reminds me of pocahontis. which was my favorite disney movie as a kid. its just so free and flowing. it makes me happy to know that there trees are in the world!
Bend me break me anyway you make me… I will sway, I will flex, I may lose a few leaves and branches, but I will not fall. I cannot be defeated, and my roots run deep.
The willow’s yellow leaves fall like rain on the tall fall grass. There’s no more summer, just another tree dropping it’s life.
willows are white and fluffly..soft and pretty. willow trees are my favorite. i love the fireworks that look like willow trees, those are my favorite fireworks. i don’t have a lot to say about willows..
Willow was what they called her. I’m not even sure if it was her real name, but because she was so tall and skinny they gave her the nickname. She didn’t particularly like being called Willow for she hated her height and body, but she tolerated it.
People would tell her to be thankful for the body she was given because her size was so desirable. People also told her that her height was also a gift because it gave her to look of a model.
Willow hated everything about herself, but no one understood why.
the willow tree out back of my house is a really great place to have sex with squirrels. im just kidding of corse..its where my grandma reads me stories of her childhood and how she ruled the seven seas as a pirate. haha silly gramma :)
A willow. A slow, whimsical ballet dance. Can you see the emotion in every bend, every step? I hurt. And as the willow tree bends, it bends in silence.
Is it really weeping, what a lovely way to cry.
All he did was cry, from the age of 7 to the age of 8. “Blow out your candles and make a wish!” his mother had said to him. And he closed his eyes and did has he was told and then without warning, he started to bawl. And after 365 and one half days, on the morning of his 8th birthday, just as suddenly as it had started, he stopped.
The gentle willow tree sighed softly, gazing down at the wrinkled man who dozed beneath her branches. She tickled his bare head with the tip of a thin branch, remembering the days when he would run and play with the energy she so missed.
she’d tell me, meet me by the willow tree at three o’clock. she was the woman of my dreams. nobody could’ve been as perfect as she was. i waited by the willow tree for three months. she didn’t exist. imagination has never hurt so bad.
A tree, on a hill with branches to the ground. I love what I see, I love this tree. Green, and lofty yet gold and humble. Climb the hill see what I see, beauty.
The willow bent in deep resignation as she hid them from view, knowing the clandestine visit was to be their demise. She was no longer a bystander but she was culpable as they.