He would sit by the window, looking out on the barren landscape. “Do you think we should get a doctor?” she asked. He heard them talking but there was no cure for his sadness. He would always pine away for beautiful landscapes, before all the bad things happened.
the trees stood tall in the forest. ever green, needles falling to the ground to carpet the floor. she could get lost in this forest, but she didn’t care. they said the faeries danced here, to music she would never hear. the pull was strong, drawing her in, telling her to let go of everything and join the dance.
the smell of pine
brings back
memories
of blue-skied decembers
and forgotten februarys
of a brick house
full of love
that ceased to exist,
to parquet flooring
stowed with lies
of the life
we thought we had
before the landslide.
Pine trees stand at the edge of the mountain, wind twisted around them, made them strong, tall and straight, bristle brushes, somehow still lonely.
Want is distruction. It eats at the intellect and destroys the soul
He would sit by the window, looking out on the barren landscape. “Do you think we should get a doctor?” she asked. He heard them talking but there was no cure for his sadness. He would always pine away for beautiful landscapes, before all the bad things happened.
the trees stood tall in the forest. ever green, needles falling to the ground to carpet the floor. she could get lost in this forest, but she didn’t care. they said the faeries danced here, to music she would never hear. the pull was strong, drawing her in, telling her to let go of everything and join the dance.
the smell of pine
brings back
memories
of blue-skied decembers
and forgotten februarys
of a brick house
full of love
that ceased to exist,
to parquet flooring
stowed with lies
of the life
we thought we had
before the landslide.