his Eyes are the leafy root of a carrot, Portals to the sustenance underground. his Feet are bare but determined to go far. his mouth is a canopy to a dense forest Hiding from the world, what lays inside.
his flyaway hair, like a fallen piece of bark, an imperfection that's part of a perfect picture. his Thoughts are raindrops pouring off of an elephant leaf, Small indentations flowing from a vast expanse. his Voice is the wind, carrying me away to a better place.
his Charisma is Grandfather Mountain who holds old wisdom, ever durable through the storm. his Past, a collection of sand, is molding into a seashell that will take a lifetime to form. his Soul is a pinecone, Guarded on the outside but holds something precious to me.