It's easy for me to shut a door behind myself
But if it slams shut the noise sort of resonates
The sound lingering and trailing for years subtly
Somewhat like blowing out a match
You can watch the smoke rise from the flames remains
Floating around your head before it dissipates
Tying a horse to a fence doesn't guarantee it to stay in that spot
Wood can rot
Trees can also become diseased
All life have cycles
Can be cut down or burned
Territorial pissings
Rambunctious etchings
Faded notations