Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Humming again, a nameless tune that sauntered through her mind, she didn’t flinch at the prospects of home – of some pieces gone, chiseled away, or buried beneath the rubble. “Stormbreak. I help with the Celestine – we get a great number of animals there.” The beautiful mantas included, with their radiant pools and dazzling displays of aerial acrobatics above the veneer.
She finished with another stroke of the charcoal, head raised to survey the Outlander. “Ah, I haven’t visited either of those yet. Which part is your favorite?” Perhaps she’d venture outward at some point, desperate to keep herself busy. "I went to the desert recently. What an interesting place."
And no, she hadn’t forgone the bizarre image along the corner of her eye, the snap of an intangible window pane, the strange flickerings that made her drop her pencil into the sand. “I did. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean,” with a hesitant gulp, losing the hymn under her voice for something else instead – maybe more trepidation.
She finished with another stroke of the charcoal, head raised to survey the Outlander. “Ah, I haven’t visited either of those yet. Which part is your favorite?” Perhaps she’d venture outward at some point, desperate to keep herself busy. "I went to the desert recently. What an interesting place."
And no, she hadn’t forgone the bizarre image along the corner of her eye, the snap of an intangible window pane, the strange flickerings that made her drop her pencil into the sand. “I did. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean,” with a hesitant gulp, losing the hymn under her voice for something else instead – maybe more trepidation.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
