In the crook of a tree,
A leaf.
Crawling slowly, or so it seems.
Light shines through the slits of the forest —
Dusk set in for what seemed like the first time, but also the last;
The Tree
One day I noticed it
Saying goodbye was the hardest
leaving the walls and corners
the old upright piano
-which was out of tune-
The creaky floors, the step by the door-
I don’t enjoy the descending as much
I am more about the climb up
The feeling of escaping from the world below
The feeling of progress in the form of vertical height
The wind was humming past my ears
that wasn’t why we were out
