every leaf is a flower,

and every tree is a twiddling thumb,During morning, the sun opened my book of paper lines, and I wrote a story. The story was dipped in hunger panes, and hidden desire. In my head, I was writing an entry to my own journal. A genuine story about a girl who dims the sun with her frown. One day, she follows bird seed, until, she discovers her lover bathing in fruit water. Some folks dream through cola bottles, night hours, crops through airplane windows, I dream through story telling. Autumn is a story keeper too, weaving it's own tale. A story or song about harvests, wrinkled petals, and feet meeting golden leaves. The season is Mother Nature's gift, ...