The Tree of Memories
written by: Mihaela Melnic
We delve into the incorporeal core of the past. Our inner voices resound like droplets of dew on the walnut’s rusted leaves
not yet fallen, nor coated in dust of oblivion.
Memories ignite our irises. Black hair of fathers and mothers gone sways like crows over golden fields in the breeze of every season.
It all comes in layers of honey and rust on our lips ajar.
Torn by time, the walnut spreads its tremulous hulls on the ground. The secrets revealed are winding through thick roots up to our feet.
Rustling black and white memories ripple the waves of our hearts.
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