She Stands
Upon the hill
She stands upon the hill,
under the great and revered oak,
ancient growth in its wisdom.
Leaves falling like pearls unto her braided hair,
she weeps tears of sorrow,
a thousand stories in one salty drop.
She stands upon the hill,
under the great and revered oak,
ancient growth in its wisdom.
Leaves falling like pearls unto her braided hair,
she weeps tears of sorrow,
a thousand stories in one salty drop.
The Lark shares fictional short stories and poetry