It’s funnyhow our perspectives of settings change due to the weather.
My backgarden for instance:
In the summer the lush green grass melts under the invisible rays that fly from the golden ball of flames in the sky. Next to which is the fluffy, distinct and lonesome cloud that hovers all by it’s self, waiting like an obedient dog. The two tree’s stand guard over my kingdom, protecting it like bodyguards. They stretch up into the blue abyss, their emerald green leaves surrounding the prickly twigs that hold up these guardians. A perfect light-brown picket fence skirts around the garden like a boy chasing a ball, the brown blends richly with the solitary shed that hides away millions of treasures. Just in front of this is a bush, which when windy, sways casually in the breeze like a dancer on a stage.
In the autumn,it rains. It creates a depressing aura that attacks you as you wake up and stays with you the entire day, poking at you until you crack. My garden takes the brunt of it, the grass mutates into an ugly swamp of rain water and mud which disgusts even the strongest stomached of people. The sun vanishes behind the murky, grey clouds that taunt every person who looks up at them. My trees have died. There surrounding leaves have discoloured to a communal show of browns, yellows and blacks and have dropped to the swampy floor. The actual tree trunk is naked, defenceless against the wind and rain and lacks the ability of guarding my less impressive ‘kingdom’. The fence sits, unable to avoid theconstant battering by the Gods’ wrath and soaks it all up like a sponge. The shed still hides away in the corner, no one ventures out to it anymore, its treasure, lost, until the bright summer. Finally the bush, droops and regrets growing up, very similar to how I feel during the rain.
>G
No comments:
Post a Comment