Redwoods and Sprites

I hate it that I dream of you constantly, that everytime my mind is free you prance into it like some nymph enticing me to daydream and just think of nothing but your smile, and your cute little laugh that breaks the surface of the melancholy lake like a smooth stone that skims it ; a welcome distraction from a somber existence.

You’re a sprite, a woodland fairy who casts a mischievious spell on old redwoods like me. I can be anything when I’m with you and that’s what I want to be…

Anything, I just don’t want to be a redwood anymore.



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