As a flower amongst a field lined with gold foil, soon they will pluck her body and pull out her weeds. But for now she breathes as trees sway before the twilight, water bending beneath the sun, dancing leaves falling in symphony. And grass holding to her sides, whispering, I've got you; I'm here. The Earth holding her hand, promising, They will see you every night and still will say, 'What a beautiful star.' It brings her peace; so she can finally close her eyes. One day flowers will grow through her bones, basking in the greatness of the world. In the breeze, they'll sigh, living still.
Poetry and photography by Hazel J. Hall.
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