Move With Me
One
The red and golden leaves of autumn rustle along the pave abandoned streets of Ross. A small town where the people wore their hearts on their sleeves to those who were outsiders. The rustic rundown alleyways hold secrets and lies almost as deep as the freshly ground earth of the most recent burial in the nearby Hollow Woods cemetery. The tall sycamores peeling white branches circle around us as if the life from the tree has been sucked away from the deceased souls leaving the pale discoloration. I carry in my arms a bundle of daisies as it nestles in the crook of my elbow. Another victim.