Sun shined down onto the brightly colored yard. It was more than a yard though. Flowers cast along the entirety of it, a small path weaving through for somebody to walk along on. To the far end, there was a small, stone bench where one could sit and stare at the garden all day long.
And that was where I was.
I sat there on the stone bench, holding a small, white rose in my hand, gliding my fingers gently along the soft petals.
A rose was a beautiful thing. The colors all meant something. Blue would symbolize life, or even apology, red symbolizes love or adoration, and white would symbolize purity, and maybe even death.
Dew accumulated on the bright flower, and it took me a few moments to realize that it was raining. I stared around myself, and despite it raining, I didn’t get up and go inside—I just stayed where I was. When I looked over, there was a young boy sitting next to me, doodling in his notebook and kicking his legs, humming all the while. I smiled at him. He was a good kid.
Glancing over, I didn’t see anything on the paper, he hadn’t drawn anything, yet his pencil was marking the paper clearly. Nothing showed up. Nothing made sense. It was like a backwards sort of world. It was peaceful and quiet, and I wondered how long it would stay like this.
I sat there for hours, staring at the rose and watching the small child, hoping and praying that it would never end.
 Kisa le Freak · Thu Jan 14, 2010 @ 04:00am · 0 Comments |
