The hollow tree whistles in the wind. Not often does the small girl attend to her tree. It just grows older, like her. but the tree loves her still, and she just ignores it, she used to hug it, nurture it to grow, like a mother does to her baby. They were one.

The tree is empty now, the heart all scooped out, no feelings of love or loneliness rest inside it. At least it's out of it's misery…