The Swinging

Usually, I’m a tree-hugger.

Yep, when it comes to the old oak of Faith, my face is smashed into the bark and I’m bear-cuddling that trunk.

But these last few days… I’ve worried myself out onto a scrawny limb.

Oh, I’m still hanging on (I’m much too stubborn to ever let go), but, man, I’m getting tired of all the dang swinging.

My face misses that old bark. My heart aches for that fat trunk.

I’ll get back there soon, right?

Until tomorrow…

Chloe

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