picture: Autumn Leaves Collage from forestfoliage.com
Leaves
She leaves the house for a walk.
Her mind is in the clouds; is abroad.
Following the footpath her gaze is fixed on the leaves she steps on and the feelings she has cannot explain the polymorphic shapes or the assorted colour or the brittle sound thereof.
She wanders off into another Universe thinking of the green leaves and how she feels whenever she leaves.
Melting inside and out, her eyes looking into another World, she runs into a bush and her touch is burnt by its leaves.
The pain awakens her and she retracts her hand; squeezing it with the other she puts her fingers into her mouth.
The sensation from suckling relieves her physical pain and she turns back into her deep thoughts, hurting.
The limits this World embodies wounds her heart and she wants to hide within her where imagination illuminates the path.
She stumbles on a twig but balances herself quickly; she’s always been on her two feet making it snowball’s chance in hell to hide out.
Pensively, she leaves the woods and returns home watching the joyful run of her dog aside.
At least or at last – she doesn’t know which- she is grateful for the leaves and for whatever it is that she’s got.
Her mind is in the clouds; is abroad.
Following the footpath her gaze is fixed on the leaves she steps on and the feelings she has cannot explain the polymorphic shapes or the assorted colour or the brittle sound thereof.
She wanders off into another Universe thinking of the green leaves and how she feels whenever she leaves.
Melting inside and out, her eyes looking into another World, she runs into a bush and her touch is burnt by its leaves.
The pain awakens her and she retracts her hand; squeezing it with the other she puts her fingers into her mouth.
The sensation from suckling relieves her physical pain and she turns back into her deep thoughts, hurting.
The limits this World embodies wounds her heart and she wants to hide within her where imagination illuminates the path.
She stumbles on a twig but balances herself quickly; she’s always been on her two feet making it snowball’s chance in hell to hide out.
Pensively, she leaves the woods and returns home watching the joyful run of her dog aside.
At least or at last – she doesn’t know which- she is grateful for the leaves and for whatever it is that she’s got.
Beril
18/09/11
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