A stone bench with glass bead mosaics portrays the image of a perfect spring afternoon. Sun is shining down, but not with blaring heat.
Birds chirping, butterflies soaring through the air, and sounds of distant laughter.
Remenants of the morning dew sparkle like diamonds.
A small brown book with yellowed pages and a tattered leather cover.
Words stamped into the cover have sadly become illegible.
A smooth blissful voice reads tales from the old book.
Every Saturday, at 2:00 pm, I would sit on that stone bench.
No matter the weather, her stories, her smile, her voice, her love, would always warm my heart.
I still sit down on that bench at 2:00 every Saturday, just waiting to feel that warmth again.