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|xxxxxxxxxx (profile) wrote, |
on 8-27-2010 at 9:41pm
|It smells like a freshness I've never been able to grip since the day it all ended. The clouds were billows of smoke, in any shape I could think of.
It was periwinkle blue.
Everything was blue, and green.. and bright. Like bright white hospital lights that weren't intimidating. I squinted a lot, I remember, as I dipped my toes in the serene water. I felt the fish nibble a bit, and it always made me jolt and go back for more.
I wandered behind the pond, and glided my fingertips along the petals of a hundred roses. The deep, abundant purple flowers of the Azalea bush caught my attention each time.
I floated on thoughts, and spoke imagination.
I wished for nothing.
I wanted nothing, for I had it all.
The grass never smelled uncut. The sun always shined through the trees, onto the grapevine trellis where I would hide secret treasures. It felt warm, like I was wanted, like a true home's caress.
No matter the season change, I remained invited. The aura called my name, and I never missed a step.
Beauty at its most vulnerable.
Unforeseen by most, witnessed by few.
A real-life Fairy-tale.
|Anonymous:||(this user logs IP addresses)|