She is a hundred lives repeating. 

Seismic circles that don't end. Each a story only she can trace in shaky lines back, back, back to her slender beginning.

Between the spaces, things that fade—

Heat.

Cold.

Memories.

Leave marks like tears on paper.

But she is the heartwood and the forest.

She can never fade.

♛ A/N: I know this isn't retro. Not really. But I wrote it as a companion to a Christmas gift untroubledheart did for our mother —a beautiful oak tree Dryad.  And I figured it's a fairie right? One of the good ones...

 maybe?

Dedicated to my mom lisamtea. Because, yes, she hangs out on here, too.