Sillage of the fallen
Sillage of the fallen  trees stories
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soothrain
soothrainbe a pineapple, crown atop, sweet within
Autoplay OFFΒ  β€’ Β 6 days ago
and the whiff of their death in trails is left, to remind us of their fall, but as accustomed, we ignore......

Sillage of the fallen

Lores are breathed by the trees, as the wind hath given them conversation;

Lores are breathed by the trees, as the wind hath given them conversation; of a time long imprisoned by ancestors, when things looked more human.

Concrete does drown a sun each owl light, soaking all morrow's driblets;

Concrete does drown a sun each owl light, soaking all morrow's driblets; and heavens do cry, cobblers' knives, but green can't spread on stone.

White has stopped talking to peaks, no branches ope their arms;

White has stopped talking to peaks, no branches ope their arms; noble songs of air are lost, in nestlings ne'er born.

Wind now plays an eerie note, silencing head-to-head of nature's talk;

Wind now plays an eerie note, silencing head-to-head of nature's talk; leaves tremble at brattle of sharps, before they witness their fall.

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