(no subject)

[dredpiratebunny]

she waits by the door.
crisp celery breezes entangled in her curls, the gift of the wind
the leaves that spiral behind in mini vortex worshipping.
she treads lightly, the big stick left behind.
its not so much the door pushing her out
but
the air of night pulls her into the lilac's dreaming
and
its not that her eyes are closed
but
the darkness is beginning its beautful mutation into light

she loves nothing more than to dance among the molecules
her fingers tease and tickle the smallest of motes
she sees the trees, sees them deep into their chlorophylled hearts
a cushion of lichen, a crown of moss
its all a dance in between the ferns and the wind
its not that she floats
but
that she is carried by the smallest of small
and
its not that she is awake now
but
that she has found where to drift beyond oceans of leaves

Comments

[mstarfire.livejournal.com]

You Rawk!

[ladyfeithline.livejournal.com]

WOOOT

lovely lovely imiages sweety