Branches, gnarled and scraping, latched onto my back bone. They ripped me through the window and dropped me in a garden of decay. I sat alone and I wondered and I thought.
I thought about what the old man had said and I thought about time well spent and I guess time well spent is time spent drawing circles in the sand and brushing them away with the palm of my hand
Beneath the dirt I found a honey-jade stone and I noticed that a rose had grown amongst the trees and their dying leaves.
I stumbled through the hazy grey and I wrapped my hands gently around it's stem and I whispered "You've made this a home, You've finally made this a place I wanna be."
I kissed her just below her neck and the rose and I laid, listening calmly, to the torrential force of the rain.
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