Winter

She steps into the garden. The night air is warm and succulent. It draws her in, enfolds her, consumes her bit by bit. She inhales deeply, contemplatively, savoring its sweetness. She feels its warmth caress her lungs. A liquid moon is embedded deep in the sky and pours creamy light over the little garden, drenching the flowers in a luxurious luster. She breathes out. The warmth leaves her, but its memory lingers in the corners of her body. She tells herself that she won’t ever let go of these precious reminders. That she’ll keep them close, cherish them, nurture them. Resolute, she stares into the azure distances before her, feels their cold eyes upon her, and in her heart, she hears the bitter herald of the coming winter.

-r. miller

Advertisements

Ring the Call Button

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s