some things cycle through, like this memory from 9 years ago
a simple scattering, leaves leaving trees in color falling in bramble, full of berry thickets and thorns covering moss covered rocks, all moistened by the constant mist that hovers by day, a chaotic metropolis, wind blown, playing with the sun by day that thickens and pours quietly all around to reflect the moon against the dark i leave the door open, i can hear you almost imperceptibly as i fall asleep oh mist giver of life stealer of my soul leaving a blanket of green as you evaporate
