Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2010
It was a crisp November afternoon
and the sun was dancing across the hills,
at the other side of the valley making them glow
-like golden mounds.

The wind was fresh
as it whipped the grasses carrying the salty scent of the sea.

I sat back and closed my eyes,
running my fingers through
the grass beside me and taking in
the sweet scent of the rotting vegetation coming from the forest to my left.

I opened my eyes
just as the sun began to disappear behind a huge grey cloud and suddenly the air was heavy
with the moisture of the impending down pour.


Instantly the hills seemed grey and cold.
Sally Farrell
Written by
Sally Farrell
626
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems