i took a stroll through the field
my mind was buckling under pressure
the field comforted me
for i was raised here
the pines often whisper
she extended her branches
"may i?"
"for this dance be mine?"
my face twisted in warmth
"hush, dear child," the pines sung to me
"all shall prosper, for this dance accompanies a healer's tune."
a humble tear traveled from my eye
maybe i didn't want to be healed.
i drew my hand from the branch's fingertips
it sobbed
i turned, for i lacked the love it graced me
i sunk into the daisies below.
a boy was strolling through the fields
it seemed he, too,
was pressured.
