Perennial
Slowly, she treads the frigid ground. A long, dark cloak bears down on her shoulders like the weight of the world. Her shadowed eyes are downcast, staring, but seeing nothing. Her thoughts are a medley of sorrows and regrets and her heart aches as the earth must beneath its winter crust.
This is a place with which she has been long acquainted. Back in the days when the weight of the world was truly dependant on her - a knife ear. A bitter sound stirs in the back of her throat. Her sharp eyes flicker, dulling a brief moment.
Then, all too soon, she is there.
Her knees buckling, she crumples to the ground. Her hands are already grasping futilely at the brittle earth. Her cloak heaves with every sharp, gasping breath she takes and every harsh, shuddering exhale.
Because you should have been there…
You should have been by my side…
As expected, the seedling she had planted had died. Just as all the others had before it. Just as all the ones shall after it.
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