Thursday, 13 August 2020
Field
The wind swiftly run through the field making rye whisper. It was the whisper of summer slowly bidding goodbye. It was a bid sad but full of sun. The whisper that you can almost feel on your skin or taste in your mouth. It is a bit warm and soothing and it tastes of dry bread that you found in your back pack after long trecking through woods. The golden field whispers in waves.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Time zones
My biological clock is residing in different time zone. My body craves apples and pumpkin pies in spring, adores frozen berries (even red cu...
-
A little bit of hope, is what we all are looking for. Maybe that's why I like airports so much. People go somewhere full with excitement...
-
Decided to paint along with Bob Ross video starting from season 1. Making at least one painting a week. Must admit that i was preparing for ... -
As he flicked through the letters, a small, handwritten envelope caught his attention and his heart began to thump. The familiar handwriting...
No comments:
Post a Comment