Small writing stuff

I hear the leaves ruffling. Lifting my head from the grey trees side, my vision adjusts to the beauty in front of me; tree after tree. Not enough to stop the golden sunlight pouring through. The air was crisp, my fingers pink from the cold nipping at them. Yet somehow I wasn’t bothered by the dry air. I loved it.

Getting up, I pushed all the dry leaves off me with a satisfying crinkle. Birds sing the song of joy while I wonder, tree to tree. Every step I take there’s a crunch of leaves. I feel the bark of the tall, cracked trees as I walk by. My fingers feeling every little crevice. It was mellow. Leaves gracefully dancing down from the trees, landing on my hair and shoulders.

I walk for hours, never getting restless. The birds whimsical voices guided me onward. Until I heard something… a piano. Gorgeously playing a tune my ears couldn’t get enough of. The richness of the notes made me feel warm, and safe. I keep walking forward, the notes getting clearer. I arrive to a man, his back turned towards me, facing a big beautiful piano. I sat down, not caring if I made a noise. I could tell he heard the crunch of the leaves below me, but didn’t care.