writing+2

writing 2

I stand and glare at the beautiful flog covering over me like a blanket. The deep orange weeds lingers around me like a soft touch of love. My brown bristly branches poke through the fog reaching the other side of life, i Sit and spy on all the other bodily looking tree’s and bushes, wondering to myself why they don’t have any fog over themselves. Never mind as long as i know i am getting the long love i needed.