A Golden Story

Under the branch of a willow tree,
Where the leaves do drip with gold,
A girl stands there a waiting,
For her story to be told.
“I love you” he says so quickly,
before getting on one knee,
“I want to spend my life with you,
Please, will you marry me?”
She stood there; her smile beaming
Her heart now filled with glee.
“Yes!” she said, that evening,
Under the willow tree.
Sixty years and onwards,
Their hearts now fragile and old,
They sit there on their balcony,
Listening to their story being told.

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