She looked up at the tornado of petals above her. It was summer on the mountain and it was fleeting fast. It was the last month and though the weather still caressed her like a fire, everything was slowly dying. Her happiness was part on the group of fleeting life. Her favorite tree, which blossomed with sakura flowers was loosing the small blossoms that magically held on past summer. She had never understood why they lasted so long. They were like her. All of her years she had never came off of that mountain. People told her to move. She stayed. They made her move. She killed them. Persistence was their motto, their silent idiom of a motto. They shared it just like they had shared their years on the mountain.
 THE CAKE lS A PlE · Tue Mar 24, 2009 @ 07:51am · 0 Comments |
