The following poem was written by Willow. 

Sorrow is the friend
you never wanted.
She patiently knocks
on your door,
silent as the sunset.
You let her in,
because, really,
what choice do you have?
Sorrow stays for dinner,
and you finally look into her eyes
and see her.
Somehow she seems safer
than you imagined.
You had braced yourself
and battened down the hatches
and now she sits across from you,
not demanding anything .
Just there.