There is a tree in Colorado and every time Ainsley stands under it she feels it embraced by the tree--wrapping him in its strong branches. It's needles do not scratch they caress. The great pine is simultaneously beautiful and melancholy. I wonder what secrets have been divulged under it's boughs. Ainsley wondered how much the tree could sense her presence. Was it the wind or the tree whispering?
No comments:
Post a Comment