So, I had some time to relax this evening and was able to do some writing... it has some fiddly parts but here you go... The Library The smell of tea on rainy Sunday morn, gently carried past a stout sturdy door standing guard over its precious treasures. Worn hardwood floors that protest each footfall until tea finds its home on table old, fulfilling its long held familiar role. A Persian rug, so rich and deep in pile that barefoot toes curl up upon a touch. A breath in, and released.. all worry gone. From roof to floor the shelves hold beloved tomes, no matter how oft read touch to one’s soul. Which tale will pass this wet and sodden day? Then to the chair, oh the chair… So soft that once held within its crimson grasp time seems still. There you’re held until loosed from author’s spell and all pages are turned… The tea is empty, morning becomes night. Diffuse emerald light cast cross the room illuminates the page and the dreamer the dreamer inside the library…
Posted on: Thu, 29 Aug 2013 07:58:53 +0000
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