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standing over the surrounding area, the tree seemed to be filled with a calm peacfulness, as only something that has lived for hundreds of years could attain. A giant among its fellow maples. Glisening red leaves, and solid firm base, it looked like it could stand for years to come with even a thought. But trees always think. Of nothing, of everything, of someone. The trees in this small forest thought of her. A small child no more than 9 years old. She often walked through this lush overgroth and touched every tree she passed. To her the act might not have ment anything to her but to those she made contact with, they always remembered her, and her sorrow. This had started out as just a odd pastime, but soon became a daily occurance. She loved those trees, because they were always there and looked as if they wanted to hugg her if she got close enough.
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