The end of March

The air was spring and warm, yet the noisy and strong Wind asked for a walk. The smell of blooming fruit trees swirls in mind, brings memories.

When the first droplets of rain touched her hair, the quiet but sad song began to be heard amongst the trees. Those alive, waking to next year after winter, as well as those dead ones, giving their life for beings around.
~ * ~
self-portrait
Whole series you can watch by supporting me on www.patreon.com/thinloth