Part five ; where she told me her name and wrote it on the palm of my hand
Her hair was like leaves.
The leaves of a dark,
autumn forest
at night.
Dark brown, almost black.
It was
fascinating
to see it flow in the wind.
To hear the leaves whisper
soft words to the sky.
It was beautiful,
perfect.
And yet no one saw it.
~
Any idea what you want to do when you are older?
I'd love to teach art to little kids.
