I saw the tree. It smiled when no one was looking. Sometimes, the wind tells it secrets, and I stand very quietly.
The puddle thought it was a mirror, reflecting dreams of journeys that weren’t made.
Beneath the porch, a forgotten shoe whispered stories of places visited long ago. My best friend tells me they are tired of standing still.
Perhaps the shadows know what the sun doesn't. Paths drawn by feet unseen wander off into corners of beginnings and endings.
Playground Fables