It was a bleak and dismal Sunday morning, as I baked for the sake of baking. My head was bowed as I sliced apples when suddenly, everything within me started aching. I decided to take a brief recess and rest in my reclining chair.
As I gazed out through my windowpane, I observed that rain was there. It dripped and dropped onto the dense grass, and such a beautiful sight it was. As I continued to gaze, I noticed a faint, human-like figure in the shadows of the trees. At that moment, reason had abruptly gone, and curiosity had jurisdiction.
I found myself leaving the comfort of my chair, walking into the grove. When the rain caressed my wrinkled skin, I then began to roam. I could hear vague, ghost-like murmurs surrounding me; the predicament that I was in then began confounding me.
As time progressed, my visual perception dimed, and as it dimmed, the murmurs became more prominent. I listened to the murmurs repeatedly asserting "your end is right in front of thee." I didn't understand nor had a clue. My fearfulness only grew.
And then out of the blue, I collided with what I assumed was a tree, until I heard a rather stout, raspy, sinister-natured "hello." And instantaneously I registered what the murmurs had revealed to me. My end was unquestionably in front of me.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
O' prepossessing garden
for you resemble my youth,
an innocence I no longer bear.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 7:10 PM UTC