“What’s sad, you ask, what makes me cry? I would tell you, friend, if only you would listen; I would show you, pal, if only you wouldn’t laugh. I would pound it into your head, if only you would care. But maybe the time to tell the truth is here. What makes me sad, friend, well here it is. Sadness comes in many forms, and I suppose that these are mine: Time, passing; Things, changing; Lives, extinguishing; Love, breaking.”

“You laugh, my friend, as I thought you would, you smile and roll your eyes. ‘What a queer, daft fool, to distress and cry upon such common things! Time and life will always change, people will die and love will break. Such things happen every single day, more common than the rain or the wind blowing through the branches of a Willow tree. Perhaps that is what you are, my dear, daft friend, a Weeping Willow gazing down at this strange, painful world.’ ”

“We sit in silence, my head upon my arm, your eyes studying the sky. Time is passing. Things are changing. Lives are dying. Love is breaking. And maybe you’re right, my friend, maybe it’s true, but still you admit to its sorrow as we sit and ponder in the approaching dawn, crying and waiting for tomorrow.”