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Solitary Storyteller

Beneath my feet is an infinite dirt path Laced with decomposing autumn leaves and dewy emerald grasses The golden sun pours down from above Cascading upon, both the living and fallen, trees coated in soft earth moss Nothing but the sound of wind Wisping by in a cool steam Nature’s beautiful silence In front of me stands an ancient oak tree With roots burrowed Far down into the mud, past the emerald grasses Beyond my reach Bark permanently scarred by the names of generations past Love, and pain, and compassion, and fear uncovered Through the words chosen Engraved alongside sturdy roots Messy letters etched in deep Oak Tattooed with the lopsided hearts of lovers who are long gone Their initials disrupting the bark’s once continuous flow Creating the mirage of love - an everlasting memoir to infatuation Someone’s love story Artificially concrete

Solitary Storyteller

Beneath my feet is an infinite dirt path Laced with decomposing autumn leaves and dewy emerald grasses The golden sun pours down from...