Where the Willow Waits

This International Widow’s Day, we celebrate faithfulness in marriage.

Of both widows and widowers. 

For staying the eternal course. 

Some branches grow empty. Love does not.

πŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒ

Hornbill

Returns at dusk

To his nesting willow. 

A sturdy branch, once occupied.

Empty. 

πŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒ

He rests 

On the bare branch. 

The wind teases the leaves. 

Their laughter heard through the forest. 

Like hers. 

πŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒ

The rain

It comes and goes. 

Flowers beneath the tree. 

Young chick chirping their endless song. 

He tears.

And stays. 

πŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒ

He knows

His heartfast heart. 

The bare branch ever bare. 

But its broad bent remains sturdy

For her. 

πŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒπŸ¦œπŸŒ§οΈπŸƒ

Original story by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.

Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture β€” where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt.

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