Sigh.

    In the stolen night, she danced with the fireflies, dressed in dry moss from the ancient tree. She danced to the music of the toads and the wind.She danced under the light of the moon and the old stars. She danced in circles, until she was too dizzy and fell to the soft damp earth that was her momentary stage. She breathed deep, the smell of the forest so strong. She turned to the old man of the wood.
    “Was that a good dance?” she asked.
    The wind blew through the leaves of the giant tree, its massive trunk creaking and moaning an answer only she could hear.
    “Why thank you old man,” she smiled, her voice floating on the same breeze.
    To look at her she was dirty. This waif of a girl covered in the dirt of the woods. Her face dark, arms even darker, matched only by the filth over her legs. This was a creature who left bathing to those that cared. To look upon her was almost sad, until she looked back and you saw her eyes. These were the eyes of wonder, of faith and survival. They were eyes that looked into your heart, grabbed hold, and squeezed until you could not breathe. She was innocence and beguile, magic and truth. She was more than she appeared, at least that’s what the old man thought.
    The tree was older than the forest. In truth he was the father of the forest. His seeds floating down sun to moon and moon to sun, for a million days. Each tree a son or grandson, or great, great, great…well you understand. He was proud of his dominion, proud of his sons and happily spent the hours being pleased of himself. He never thought of a daughter, never wanted for such a thing, until she came to his roots.
    She was small for a tree, he remembered thinking, and moved around too much for one of his kin. She had found a break in the ground between his roots and had fallen asleep to escape the cold. He took pity on the tiny thing and cradled her, warmed her and sung with the wind and leaf. He took her in and as the rain came he did something he had not done in a thousand years. He moved, he willed his roots to close in and shield the sapling from the wet and cold. With that she became his and he became hers and the days were much more exciting than they were before.
    The old man knew she was not truly his. He knew the kin of this sapling. His roots were old and went for miles under the soft blanket of the earth mother. He was aware of the trees that moved. He had seen their cities, heard the screams of his children that built those cities. He had witnessed entire generations killed by the walking trees and their tools. He was sad over the loss of so many, but with this small one he would try to understand them.
    “Old man!” she snapped him out of his trance.
    “Old man! Are you in your past again?” she winked and kicked out her heel. “Don’t make me dance again, cause I will!”
    If a tree could smile, then the old man would have a smile 15 feet wide. The wind rustled leaves and his bark cracked and crinkled.
    “Well, I love you too old man,” she whispered to the leaves.
    Years past, as years do, and the sapling became a woman and the woman became old, but never as old as the old man. her hair got whiter, her dancing got slower and her voice became quieter…
    “OLD MAN!!”
    …almost.
    The wind replied, “yyyeeesssss?”
    “I am old, I can’t dance. I can hear you, but can’t see. I have lived with you for a lifetime and learned so much. I remember my cradle, deep in your roots and I thank you for your kindness, your care and your love.”
    Her eyes, though cloudy, still burned with such life, as she fell to the earth with a sigh as her last breath.
    The old man saw her fall
    If trees could cry, he did.
    The ground seemed to tremble, as the earth seemed to move. His roots came to hold her, bring her back to her home. He cradled her gently, as she was a babe. His roots closed around her as the wind hit his leaves.
    Those who could hear it would have spun a tall tale…about the song in the wind that seemed too sad to be real. The forest went quiet as the old man sung. One more of his saplings, but this was no son.
    If trees could love…
    A tree did love.
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Reminisce for the Rest.

I rarely look back,

I don’t work that way,

I don’t hold on to moments,

nor reminisce.

I do not keep friendships,

as time moves on,

I move with the motion,

never wondering of risk.

I know people who are trapped,

in the what was,

what wasn’t,

and could have been.

I think of a life,

looking back all the time,

I forget those I knew,

without trying to be mean.

I cut some ties,

lose many friends,

replaced with the now,

and the future to come.

So live in the past,

if you prefer that time,

but don’t fault my mind,

what’s done is always done.

 

 

Tell Me…

Tell me a secret,

One that would scare,

Something horrible,

You never would share.

Tell me a lie,

To make me feel worse,

Some evil tantrum,

About an evil curse.

Tell me a story,

That’s too long to end,

Leave me listening,

Like an old, lost friend.

Tell me the truth,

Define the ills of man,

I will listen without judgement,

For as long as I can.

If you can’t do it,

I won’t get too mad,

Most tend to wander,

Forgetting what they had.

Let me tell you something,

Something lost in time,

I am stuck here forever,

For one simple crime.

 

Courage.

She stood on the edge staring down at the water below. The river moving with the sound of a train. She could see it slam against the concrete supports sending geysers into the air. It was hypnotizing, the sound and movement. She felt the power below her, felt the wind made by the water push up against her legs. She teetered there, waiting for the courage to do it.

She wished it to come. She yearned for it as she moved her leg closer…closer…she had the courage. She had found it. She let her legs step off the edge and dropped on to the bridge. She turned back to the ledge.

“Not today fucker, not today.”

She pulled her coat tight around her and walked away.

Peripheral

In the softest light, she almost looks real.
How she twirls her hair, absently, without thought.
Eyes empty as her heart, that crooked smile frozen on her lips.
She moves, looking up at me.
Her lips part, “oh sorry, didn’t see you there.”
Almost a whisper too loud for me to hear.

That’s how it is, almost but not there.

She has a way with whispers.

Once…a story of me.

Once upon a time,
You were the world to me,
There was nothing before,
Nothing after,
You were grace,
And beauty,
You were music,
And I danced with smiles,
You found me when I was lost,
And held my hand,
You were everything,
In the story of me…

Until I could no longer pretend…
All stories fade to The End.