RIDGES AND SCARS By Anonymous
I saw her in autumn and as I watched her leaves fell into me I saw how much more beautiful she was without leaves than with them telling stories of days long gone through her ridges and scars that I soon became a scholar in studying the marks late at night under the moonlight but still shrouded in darkness I came back every night because I liked the way it felt as if she could read me while I read her because I liked the way it felt as if I was becoming more of her and she was becoming more of me rooted to the ground in her ways but still branching out to me only to trap me in a forest of her thoughts so dark and mysterious neither her ridges nor her scars could explain I came back one night to find no forest no trees where she used to stand I found a small pile of sticks sheltering a single seed that I planted where she used to stand
