& he has his face in his hands.
don’t mind him, though, he’s just
sprawled out on the ground.
thinking would probably be a good word for it,
but at the moment, all he’s doing is ever-so
quietly complaining about his head hurting.
not the most comfortable place,
but at least it’s peaceful here.
tamlen sits upon the branch,
perched high above the forest
floor with legs crossed instead
of dangling.
a soft sigh, head rested upon the
tree trunk with eyes half-lidded and
weary. the wind is cool, evening air
replacing the heat of the day.
he likes to be alone. he likes to sit
away from everyone and just take
the time to relax. and actually…
he’s a bit surprised
no one has shown
to disturb him yet.
