Crawling slowly, or so it seems.
Light shines through the slits of the forest —
In the crook of a tree,
A leaf.
The wind was humming past my ears
that wasn’t why we were out
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-
The Tree
One day I noticed it
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
Dusk set in for what seemed like the first time, but also the last;
The embers smouldered like stars in the night sky;
Yet the overcast sky and the thick smoke hid the stars.
As the wind from the southeast sent chills down my whole body,
Weather is always changing- In some places more than others
After hours upon hours of flat brown cornfields,
