The Story Of The Old Tree
On a hill, where only the lonliest of winds blow, there sits the Old Tree. Twisted and dark, her branches gnarled from ages of currents flowing past her. Roots penetrating deep into the ground, solidly standing before the cliffs. How stately and elegant she is. Leafless, there is nothing left for her to lose. The bark of the Old Tree is hard and coarse. A fair shield to fend off the attack. Nothing dare inhabit her limbs, it is far to desolate a place. When all is silent her creeks and moans can be heard across the valleys that plumit before her, as though a sigh were descending upon them. Scarred by the passage of young lovers who com to carve their names upon her trunk, alas doomed to dwell in this world of solitude. An Old Tree like no other, a sage for the masses. Such is the life of the Old Tree.
XoXo
Axle
On a hill, where only the lonliest of winds blow, there sits the Old Tree. Twisted and dark, her branches gnarled from ages of currents flowing past her. Roots penetrating deep into the ground, solidly standing before the cliffs. How stately and elegant she is. Leafless, there is nothing left for her to lose. The bark of the Old Tree is hard and coarse. A fair shield to fend off the attack. Nothing dare inhabit her limbs, it is far to desolate a place. When all is silent her creeks and moans can be heard across the valleys that plumit before her, as though a sigh were descending upon them. Scarred by the passage of young lovers who com to carve their names upon her trunk, alas doomed to dwell in this world of solitude. An Old Tree like no other, a sage for the masses. Such is the life of the Old Tree.
XoXo
Axle
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Indeed very good writings you have.