Do You Still Like Us?

A gilded wood, sun soaked and hazy with a thick and humid fog clinging thick, slick, lazy upon the damp, mossy forest floor. Hand in hand the 2 little girls walk and slip upon their slippery walk, recounting tales and yarns and things already beginning to spin past lost. There are sad songs and laughter and longing and after and going keep goings and all here and now theres.