Winter freshness kissed Lilly’s cheek as she selected a tree and sat at it’s feet. Her hands crushed into gentle snow and left shadowy imprints as she leant backwards. She did not want to sing today, she shouldn’t have come. The trees stood as statues. They did not move and neither did Lilly. The light caressed her sharp eyes. There was no sound. Lilly drew her coat closer about her slim form and pulled it up to her mouth, chewing on the top button. Frost melted as it touched her warm neck and trickled down her back. She shivered. Even through the early morning mist, she could see the thick, branchless trunks of pine trees. They were all the same. They were all still. Lilly gulped down breaths of freezing air, the sweetness of icy leaves stuck in her mouth. Clouds billowed as she released her tension. She sank a little deeper, her head scraped against the bark, her black hair collected frosty droplets. Lilly closed her eyes so that she could see the trees. Lilly opened her mouth. Lilly sang the tree song.
If it were possible for trees to speak, then this would be their song. Not just oak trees, or willow, but every tree. From the far eastern sh...
The Tree Song by Abby (LoA)
- Published on October 29th, 2009.
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