I Am The Sound Of Leaves Falling.
I am the glow of stars at night. I am your dinner boiling over. This is the caravan of aches and pains. This is life. This is running away. I am Peter Pan, refusing to grow up.
I am everything at once. This is how it’s done, no it’s not. This is my broken heart. These are my muddled thoughts. I am getting lost. I am a strange bug with a fuzzy tail.
Sometimes I walk in the rain. Sometimes I just get wet. I am the sound of waves crashing through the sleepless night. I am the moment a blister pops. I am Bilbo Baggins, on an adventure.
I am in the sunrise. This is a spiderweb wrapped around my face. I am the death of a child. I am the cancer and the tears. I am tingles of sadness. I am tingling.
The river runs like a cold bath. I am staring at glowing embers. I am a glow worm. I am lost time, forgotten time. I am worthwhile. I am Don Quixote, the knight errant.
I am a pretty French girl at the bus stop. I am a pretty French girl on the bus. This is what ten hours of knee high mud feels like. This is what walking fifty kilometres in one day feels like. I am swimming upstream with a pack on.
These are the birds and the sounds they make. This is five days of rain. I am unexpected. I am the kindness of strangers. I am the joy of deep fried food. I am doomed. I am Thoreau, deep in thought.
I am a pretty French girl in the future. I am relinquishing control. I am hope. This is life. I am friendship. I am spontaneity. This is life whizzing by. I am grasping at straws. Starry starry night.
I am the claws of the wind. This is a coincidence. There is no such thing. What constitutes literary merit? I am Emily. I am Rajiv. I am Gina, Dan, Christine, Kelsey, Bruno. I am Walter. I am wild horses. I am the red thread holding everything together.
I am a wild animal. I got too close and now I am a ball of spikes. I am new seasons freckles. I am here and this is now. I am me. This is the sound of leaves falling. These are my muddled thoughts.