The little tree of mine evolving before my very midst -- each twisted line of poetry, woven colorful phrase, and knarled root of ideas -- growing into a bundle of branches.
Posted in response to the challenge Ode to a Tree.
Little Tree of Mine
More by Amalie@kua
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Where my Grandmother's Wisdom Dwells
My grandmother's body slowly shifts into the rock, weaving into the dead texture. Eyes faded and grey, seeing more than I will ever know, and yet nothing at all.
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The Destiny of Eden
We stood at the entrance of a new age.
Past a garden of all we had ever known,
We found the gate.
Past what we were meant to know and created to be.
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We Cannot Be Stopped
She wrote until her fingers carved groves in the silence and spoiled the blankness before. Then, she turned to each surface left unwrote and sang. The birch trees wept as she tore back the bark to reveal stories beneath.
Comments
Really cool line work! Like little knots in the tree. My favorite part is the recessed branches in gray shadow, which add such great dimension to the piece.
Love the way you colored it!
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