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Dec 2018
Listen to the forest
It speaks
Not in the language we know
Birds singing
Leaves bustling in trees
Dancing with the wind
It blows, whispering
β€œCome with me, come home,”
The ground releases a crunch
As a hard foot presses down

If I sit here long enough
Will I become one of the branches
Of the tree?
Is this how they all got here?
Merlie T
Written by
Merlie T  27/F/PNW
(27/F/PNW)   
258
 
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