Burning off your summer skin, pack away your warm mellow mind and brace for the cold.
The weather is changing but our cold souls remain frozen.
Riding the warm sun. Surfing the the moon formed waves.
Bending trees dance like no one cares.
Everyone is there moving to the sound of the thunder.
Clouds cry their honey dipped tears. Longing for a quiet day of rest from the troubles of the wold they watch from above.
The sore skin of the world holds us up, stopping us from falling to Hell.
Peeking from behind flower bushes.
The ocean flooding from behind our eyelids. A barrier only we can break.
Breaking free of our summer skin because all it holds is the cold.
Sage
this was brilliantly visual. mmm, yes. yes. yes.
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