Big Oak Tree

Times when even the safest of havens don’t allow you residence and all you are left with is a pile of dead black leaves of your memories to lie on under the big black oak tree of your fears. The only mates you could have then would be the silhouettes of them from the safe haven you were forced to exile, rummaging around for you, mute and helpless.


Published by


I write for people. I write for love. In my world you hear all what remains unheard. I welcome both dark and bright with arms wide open. -MsK

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s