There are many trees that were only a foot tall when I was 5 but now tower over me, that give me shade when the sun is too hot or when the wind is blowing too hard. It is a magical sight, watching the branches reach into the sky, whether the sky was blue or dusted pink with the sunset or gray on a rainy day. Watching the branches wave in the wind, as if they wanted to reach the clouds like a bird.
A tree can't fly, but it will try to.
YOU ARE READING
AN ALBUM WILL REMEMBER
Poetry[ poetry/short stories/collection ] ❝ you made the truth into what I lied, and I lied that I was beautiful ❞ . . . a collection of rainbows, theories, and dreams, of words faded around the edges with meanings that nothing could ever fade. a...
