I hear its song in the wind.
Its mournful rhythm swaying through the leaves.
It's calling me to see its glory, its splendour.
Its calling me to sleep, a leafy lullaby.
Its rustle reminds me of a long hooped dress,
rustling across the ground. Running. Laughing. Hiding. Lost.
I am the wearer of the dress.
Silken leaves shimmy to a bride's first dance.
I am Meinir that runaway bride, lost inside the tree.
My bones will not be found inside the lightning shattered tree, my soul is in the voice of the Talking Tree.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
I hear its song in the wind.
Its mournful rhythm swaying through the leaves.
It's calling me to see its glory, its splendour.
Its calling me to sleep, a leafy lullaby.
Its rustle reminds me of a long hooped dress,
rustling across the ground. Running. Laughing. Hiding. Lost.
I am the wearer of the dress.
Silken leaves shimmy to a bride's first dance.
I am Meinir that runaway bride, lost inside the tree.
My bones will not be found inside the lightning shattered tree, my soul is in the voice of the Talking Tree.
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