Forest of MemoryIs a forest still a forest when only but a grove's worth of trees remain intact?Is a forest still a forest when fires have ravaged the trees to ash down to the very roots?Is a forest still a forest when only the mother of dryads remains to walk through the echoes of its ghosts?"She is the earth, and I am the sky."I held a hand tonight.... and for the first time in centuries, I was sorry that gloves have become my habit. I held a hand, and felt the roots of what I had thought were ghostly trees in a forest of memory.It was the perfect place. Alone, in the dark - our feet in the soil, a tree to lean on, a smudged circle beside us.I had no words, though the hand I held clearly expected them. Some profound statement would have been appropriate - some prayer of thanksgiving, or a dance or timbrel of joy - anything... but all I could think to speak of was regret."I tried to save them..... I tried.... but they would not be convinced."Centuries.Centuries I have held on to that regret.