• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 12
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a shower on the tree of life, in its autumn years, shedding its foliage
the stories in me, falling, like leaves, brown, red, burnished gold
weaving threads of silken skeins creating rich tapestries of
men women, children wound round like climbing ivy on the trunk
floral gifts or withered vines, poor or wealthy, lives that are
marked by events of passion, sorrow life and death in close proximity
stories, with words cracked, scolding or voices happy with laughter

singing like a river gurgling to the seashore, winding its way over rocks
the sea bears the story of mankind, ancient tales for millions of years
bruised by years of conflict, carrying the plastic cast by the uncaring
the sea weighed under stories rumbles, roars into a tsunami, a lesson
learnt or forgotten? Stories float again as surely as the leaves fall
every autumn and the wind blows, the sun rises, stories unfold.