Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
It took her more than a few moments of reflection to answer the coinciding question, images running through her mind, stilling her hand so the thoughts could collect in a more concise manner. “Kind. Accepting. Willing. Comforting.” When all was said and done, that was where Lena returned – to the support and guidance of a herald who understood the aspects of change were always going to occur – and how to adapt with it. “It definitely depends on the one you seek out though,” she glanced back in return, extending a light laugh.
Returning to her drawing and scrutinizing it a little, she sought out a green pencil next and snagged it close to the sketched rock. The inquiry didn’t take her by surprise though, and once she’d dashed off a few marks she didn’t care for, she lifted up the notebook to show. “No. Can you tell?” The airy laughter was a self-deprecating one; but she hadn’t had much time to practice in everything else occurring. Perhaps the last time she’d even picked up paints had been to detail dragons upon her sister’s lantern. “But I like to do it when I can – hold some memories together, you know?”
Returning to her drawing and scrutinizing it a little, she sought out a green pencil next and snagged it close to the sketched rock. The inquiry didn’t take her by surprise though, and once she’d dashed off a few marks she didn’t care for, she lifted up the notebook to show. “No. Can you tell?” The airy laughter was a self-deprecating one; but she hadn’t had much time to practice in everything else occurring. Perhaps the last time she’d even picked up paints had been to detail dragons upon her sister’s lantern. “But I like to do it when I can – hold some memories together, you know?”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
