Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: Nature & Wildlife
- Published: 01/08/2021
.jpeg)
At the edge of the furthest mountain,
Between the valley and the lazy river,
Beyond the edge of the scented meadow,
I can see the hues painted by the setting sun.
The world is a canvas to our intuition,
Filled with colours we don't know exist,
The primary, the neutral and classic each having its attraction,
This is where we reside,
Not a canvas but;
Nature's innovation.
The wind is seeping in its harmony,
Taking along the cherry blossoms,
Their hearty colours which alleviate the eyes,
Dropping it and giving the river a divine company.
Birds are chirping, singing and drifting home,
Butterflies try to hide at a place where no breeze belongs,
For they are as delicate as a feather,
With their tiny wings smudged with a tint of chrome.
The sun kisses the horizon,
The sky which was so bright and alluring,
Now becomes the one to recede,
For the sun's going, which was sky's friend.
As I sit on the grass,
With my legs tucked,
I admire the arduous sun,
It shines as if made of brass.
Finally, the sun takes its withdrawal,
Allowing the stars to show their observance,
The moon which shines so bright and silver,
Receiving its light from the enormous ball of flicker.
At latter,
For today,
Nothing more can be seen at the edge of the furthest mountain.
Between the valley and the lazy river is only a
black curtain with a tinge of silver light.
Beyond the edge of the scented meadow,
I can see the glimmer painted by the soaring moon.
THE ESSENCE PROCEDURE.(Eesh_Howw)
At the edge of the furthest mountain,
Between the valley and the lazy river,
Beyond the edge of the scented meadow,
I can see the hues painted by the setting sun.
The world is a canvas to our intuition,
Filled with colours we don't know exist,
The primary, the neutral and classic each having its attraction,
This is where we reside,
Not a canvas but;
Nature's innovation.
The wind is seeping in its harmony,
Taking along the cherry blossoms,
Their hearty colours which alleviate the eyes,
Dropping it and giving the river a divine company.
Birds are chirping, singing and drifting home,
Butterflies try to hide at a place where no breeze belongs,
For they are as delicate as a feather,
With their tiny wings smudged with a tint of chrome.
The sun kisses the horizon,
The sky which was so bright and alluring,
Now becomes the one to recede,
For the sun's going, which was sky's friend.
As I sit on the grass,
With my legs tucked,
I admire the arduous sun,
It shines as if made of brass.
Finally, the sun takes its withdrawal,
Allowing the stars to show their observance,
The moon which shines so bright and silver,
Receiving its light from the enormous ball of flicker.
At latter,
For today,
Nothing more can be seen at the edge of the furthest mountain.
Between the valley and the lazy river is only a
black curtain with a tinge of silver light.
Beyond the edge of the scented meadow,
I can see the glimmer painted by the soaring moon.
COMMENTS (1)