The Friend Behind the Willow

I always heard her sing and play by the old willow, 

Where she said she met her friend Ella there. 

I didn't mind at first, 

It was common for a child her age 

To make imaginary friends.

One day I summoned myself to my daughter's side 

Where she drew a dreary picture.

"I'm making a drawing for Ella. She looks sad."

She said as she continued her art.

My smile wiped away as I sheltered

My daughter from her friend Ella,

Who laid by the old willow

Still midst of her decay

Rope and broken branch rested on her lap.