The Storytellers

by The Juicer

Stealing into thick summers unseen –
Hot, humid and chaffed;
They emerged given away,
By tropical stings and bites.
Lovers judged,
By thickets and birds;
Trampled and soaring.
Of all the colors and in between,
Their skin took a tint,
telling
Of sprawling greens.

We toiled their trails;
In their cool shadows,
We rested for days.
One day not long, they had
Left us behind –
Our shouts lost,
Our murmurs unheard,
Deep in the wild,
Lay treachery.
The dust and the wind,
disguised
Naked skin.

Willed by their remains,
Stories were told –
Dead tellers unnamed.

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