Wednesday, 20 April 2016

The F word

iris


This evening, there are whispers in the forest.

Voices not usually there.

Could it be two lovers, promising undying union?

Or two woodland creatures, taking human form?

Shafts of light reach through the clouds illuminating the valley.

Fingers stabbing through the grey to lead the traveller who passes this way.

Listening.

Believing.


Unsure of anything.

ab/61

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