A Flirtation With Metaphor

This one is well remembered…

The Memory Of Trees

Come now, listen closely, I’ve a story to tell. A short one, playing lightly about the edges of reason, flitting about with metaphor and meaning. Flirting shamelessly with a languid emotion and swaying lightly in the winds of thought… Come now, hearken to my voice.

The drunkard bends like a reed in the wind, dancing the dance of over indulgence. Rustling on the river bank, one stalk among many, whispering his unease to a careless current.

A tree bends gracefully, lightly does her bough cut the surface of the water. On her crown is perched a Blue Bird, singing ancient melodies of the Earth and Sky, harmonizing with the slight sound of growing things.

Captured perfectly in glistening ink, the bare bones of a hidden language. Spoken with eyes, songs, the beating of a heart… Personified by a smile, when nobody is watching.

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