I hear the leaves rustling in the wind, as I walk along the dark cold path towards my car. In the corner I see the light crimson sky coming in as dawn breaks. My breath still in the sound of the wind.
Rustling is the sound that papers make as your shift them into the various piles to take care of what you need to do with them when you are finished. It is also the sound that the newspaper makes as you are reading the different sections and folding and refolding.
Leni
this reminds me of leaves… which reminds me of fall and wind. it also remind me of the name Russ. Or rust, which makes me think of pipes and plumbing and that wierd green kind of rust that occurs on copper
Suzanne
I heard the trees rustling and I knew it was going to be cold today. Not that it mattered, I was cold anyways. Without him, I was always cold.
K
Leaves in the street. Massachusetts in the fall. Come back to me sweet colors of an autumn that I will eternally remember with people I will never forget. Representation. Shedding the leaves, shedding the tans from summer. Starting anew.
Allie
Rustling inbetween dreams was my addiction. A nocturnal thought of what I hhonestly long for every hour of everyday for the rest of my life. Like autumn leaves on a crisp cool day. forever rustling, forever troubling.
I hear the leaves rustling in the wind, as I walk along the dark cold path towards my car. In the corner I see the light crimson sky coming in as dawn breaks. My breath still in the sound of the wind.
Rustling is the sound that papers make as your shift them into the various piles to take care of what you need to do with them when you are finished. It is also the sound that the newspaper makes as you are reading the different sections and folding and refolding.
this reminds me of leaves… which reminds me of fall and wind. it also remind me of the name Russ. Or rust, which makes me think of pipes and plumbing and that wierd green kind of rust that occurs on copper
I heard the trees rustling and I knew it was going to be cold today. Not that it mattered, I was cold anyways. Without him, I was always cold.
Leaves in the street. Massachusetts in the fall. Come back to me sweet colors of an autumn that I will eternally remember with people I will never forget. Representation. Shedding the leaves, shedding the tans from summer. Starting anew.
Rustling inbetween dreams was my addiction. A nocturnal thought of what I hhonestly long for every hour of everyday for the rest of my life. Like autumn leaves on a crisp cool day. forever rustling, forever troubling.