Memories

The trees are majestic mystics of some forgotten kingdom. They slowly burn, splinter way the way love burns, slowly. The leaves curl up, my memories fall slowly back down to earth. The ash flies, eddies form twirling our words and then slowly crushing them underfoot. The light shines on the flaming branches our passion burnt out. Slowly the trees start to crumble into dust. The circles in the bark tell its age but I’m too tired too count. As I stand in the forest my tree burns, burnt the ashes settling on me like a light snowfall. Slowly the rain starts and washes away the remains of what once was.