Crescent_Moon

I dreamed
I was a butterfly
in a lonely forest
flitting from tree to tree
Carelessly 

The people who came before us often seem so far away...

just photographs of people printed in black and white and gray... 

but they were alive once just like you and me...

and they saw things that we today still see...

There is a book of untold stories
hidden beneath my bed
Unspoken stories
never whispered
Written down in solitude
Secrets
stories
and confessions
It isn't for reading
only writing
And there I write 

I don't know where everyone went
or why they went away
I don't know when they're coming back
or if they've left me to decay

Last week the tension seemed to rise
full of uncertainty and distrust
and now everyone has gone away