birch or beech, I never know. I once lay under one, high out of my mind, and could hear the twigs clacking together like woodpeckers, and marvelled at the acuteness of my hearing.
Robyn
White stripes against blue sky, scratched out against dark woods, yellow leaves fluttering. Bark peels like paper.
She leaned her head back against the old birch tree that supported her limp body. Tears ran down her face and she pondered the mysteries of her life. When were things going to change? What did she do to deserve so much pain. The one person in her life who truly loved her was gone.
birch or beech, I never know. I once lay under one, high out of my mind, and could hear the twigs clacking together like woodpeckers, and marvelled at the acuteness of my hearing.
White stripes against blue sky, scratched out against dark woods, yellow leaves fluttering. Bark peels like paper.
I lean on a birch tree.
I wonder why.
No — I can probably explain why it can be a birch tree. But why it has to be that the birch tree is here?
Why can’t it be some tree else?
There is probably no explanation.
She leaned her head back against the old birch tree that supported her limp body. Tears ran down her face and she pondered the mysteries of her life. When were things going to change? What did she do to deserve so much pain. The one person in her life who truly loved her was gone.