The Forest Will Listen
It’s hard to sleep when the sounds tickle me. They float on the breeze, bringing vibrations that stir my mind, waking me from the slumber of the forest. Once I’m awakened, I see her, again. I see her every night. It’s her sounds.
Her sounds do not bring me joy. Her sounds do not bring me pain. Her sounds beg only to be heard.
I wish to tell her that I hear, but I do not, for her ears do not hear. Her ears are closed to the sounds of the forest. Joy and pain beg only to be heard.