It’s somehow funny that a weeping willow would mean nothing without an emerald lake at her feet.
I’ve wondered how the willow knows to bend over the water, from early childhood to adult times.
And though… can you take a look please?
Apparently no beginning and no end, hard to spot that fine line… it’s like the willow bent to the lake to tell him her secrets.
Biological maybe, the willow needs the lake’s humidity to grow up nicely… and the artist fills in :”and the lakes needs her shadows to cool him down”.
At a closer look, you can start to distinguish the reflection from the actual branches. The lake seems charmed by the willow’s stories.
Maybe in time, he named her “the weeping willow” because he was weeping each time they merged one into each other so heavenly.
Now, it really gets me wondering: does each of us have somewhere in this world his/ her unique lake in which to mirror their.. everything?
Even 9304.3 miles or 8085.2 nautical miles, or better said half world wouldn’t matter… your/ my lake could be over there, or…. 2 inches distance on the couch we/ you are sharing with a someone.
Hmm.. life indeed has her funny ways, doesn’t she?