On the top of the hill, the tall, cold tree, Stands proudly, icily, bitterly; Thin and sharp, cracked and burled, Locked, like a prisoner, in a black world. The tree was once a flower, soft, supple, slender, Born with a jewel inside, of love, dreams of splendor; But by the world, the jewel was stolen,…
One pale dawn, the sapling was trying to feel bits of sunlight poking through the clouds, when it heard a soft rustle. It started, and listened carefully. And then…From the top of the large cliff, a child appeared. Then the child fearlessly swung her legs over the cliff, and hand under hand started to climb…
On Wind Shore, the four-year old tree sapling stood by itself, alone as usual, lonely and wistful, on the quiet shore. Waves swished against the sand they had smoothed in the same place over and over again for so many years. The sky was a pale gray swirled with clouds. Shore winds blew over sand…