The clock advertised itself as if the world's version of perfection, the silence as deep as sin but displayed with an aura of peace. Slowly cleansed with every tinge of sound made by either the blowing of the wind that rattled the tree branches or in fact the beating of hearts. Where they scream with panic, discomfort or over joy.
The memories falling off the branches like leaves. Some had changed colors like a chameleon, trying to blend the past and the present together. Forgetting that the tree is a symbol of the future as it grows.
I guess we shouldn't undermine the tree. It's a representation of a lesson on its own. A seed is a plant, roots sprout until it begins to grow slowly, desperately in need of sunshine. Of water or its necessities. Forming it thickens painfully through life and becomes more valuable to more than one life without realizing it. though it seemed weak and at one point, it's stronger than anything else.
