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Literature Text
She walks,
Her hands in her pockets, a smile hidden behind a scarf,
Her cheeks as red as the burning trees around her.
Habit grabs her wrist and directs her home,
her footsteps follow the slow rhythm of the robin's song.
Suddenly a wrong note.
Behind her a twig cracks because of a careless step.
She turns to see a chubby boy who is standing in front of her.
His wavy blonde hair frame his lovely face,
And his golden eyes shine like little suns after an eternal night.
A blink, and he is vanished.
On that path there is only a woman
Who is searching for the lost soul of a dying season.
Her hands in her pockets, a smile hidden behind a scarf,
Her cheeks as red as the burning trees around her.
Habit grabs her wrist and directs her home,
her footsteps follow the slow rhythm of the robin's song.
Suddenly a wrong note.
Behind her a twig cracks because of a careless step.
She turns to see a chubby boy who is standing in front of her.
His wavy blonde hair frame his lovely face,
And his golden eyes shine like little suns after an eternal night.
A blink, and he is vanished.
On that path there is only a woman
Who is searching for the lost soul of a dying season.
© 2011 - 2024 Debbysh
Comments17
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Very atmospheric writing 