@Ratvork
Sorry that it's kinda late.
Sorry that it's kinda late.
He was a dry time in the forest,
She was the being of the brush,
Relative harmony,
Not a need to rush.
He was a spark in a once-mire,
For a new wind had pushed him on,
The situation dire,
She fed him leaves, and they were gone.
From the little wind's nudge,
He barreled through the verdant leaves,
Leaving scorches, marks and smudge,
smoky vines and flaming trees.
Suddenly it was quiet
For he had wisped into the air
Not a care, for once he was a raging fire,
Now just a ghostly, twirling gyre,
As the wind carried away the green's lover,
She sobbed over her twigs, and scorches and gashes,
But only glared at me,
For all I was;
The after ashes.
She was the being of the brush,
Relative harmony,
Not a need to rush.
He was a spark in a once-mire,
For a new wind had pushed him on,
The situation dire,
She fed him leaves, and they were gone.
From the little wind's nudge,
He barreled through the verdant leaves,
Leaving scorches, marks and smudge,
smoky vines and flaming trees.
Suddenly it was quiet
For he had wisped into the air
Not a care, for once he was a raging fire,
Now just a ghostly, twirling gyre,
As the wind carried away the green's lover,
She sobbed over her twigs, and scorches and gashes,
But only glared at me,
For all I was;
The after ashes.
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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pop-up art shop she/her FR +3 |
