Coming Home

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She slowed her jogging to a crawl and found rest on the fallen trunk of a willow tree. She was panting and sweating profusely. Her ear buds sifted the music into her very soul. It wasn’t just music, it was life. Her first love, her first hearta...

She slowed her jogging to a crawl and found rest on the fallen trunk of a willow tree. She was panting and sweating profusely. Her ear buds sifted the music into her very soul. It wasn’t just music, it was life. Her first love, her first heartache, her every waking moment. With her legs outstretched she leaned into her body and grabbed for her toes. It was beautiful, being alive. Sweating. Panting. Crying inside. Sitting on the trunk of a once beautiful, crying tree. She wasn’t much unlike it, in fact. For even in death, she would fall over and lay rest beneath the woman she loved. She couldn’t offer her shade nor branches, but she would always bring her home to rest.

Alexandra L. Narron

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