3/16/16

there were no question marks threaded into her indigo sky.

the birds are going home

soon. North.

Once again we've begun to melt. 

Our icy words turning into puddles.

and the leaves that we caught from

the fear that they might dissaper, 

have finally fallen apart.

so maybe here is where it really begins

with young hands and seeds.

xArielle

grow like wildflowers dear