All Three

Wind-blown.

Storm-battered.

Creaking with the strain.

If I happened to be a tree, I would be all three.

Alas, I’m simply me, and there’s nothing poetic in this raging, wicked air.

(Ok, now that I’ve made us all cringe with my poor wordplay, go have a proper day and crack a smile, or three, for me.)

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

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