There is an aching in my bones.
An itch I can’t scratch.
Something inside I just can’t reach, or figure out.
So I walk.
I walk to the woods, snowy covered pine crackling right beneath my feet. I swing my arms, feel the chill as the tallest true looks down at me, my eyes only reaching the trunk.
A doe meets eyes with me, swiftly, for a split second for at one point, she was me and I was her.
Scared. Naive. Fear.
These things come into me so easily.
Like some sort of pull, you wiggle the fear button and there she goes, scared again.
“What’s to come?”You may ask.
“Just the unknown” I reply.
And that’s the fear isn’t it?
Of what’s to come…