Winter trees beckon a cold wind to rush through it’s brown pines,
It lashes through with no remorse, it feels nothing, it knows nothing.
High above , they spoke of a coming of souls , temptress and seeker.
They yearn for each other’s embrace. Stuck like sap from an old oak tree and the tiny orbs within it.
There! There she is. She turns to look behind her, nothing but icy wind fills her clothes, as if frosted fingers lay their clasp over her throat, pushing her towards the cliff’s edge….
She whispers, “ I’d knew you’d come”.
As she leapt … He swept her away.
Never to be found or heard of until the next two souls came forth.
The cycle repeats, the heart repeats, the action repeats and the silence widens the gap.
