Stumbling over green clumps of soft earth.
Two little girls run against the currents of a gushing wind, that hurls itself across the hills and valleys, scoring tracks in the long meadow grass.
Red cheeks like apples shining in the sun of a girl's soft smile.
Eye's filled with wonder and expectation glance up at a sky worn to cloudy rags with the day's cares and traces of tears that can't be explained.
The glinting of light through naked branches and skeleton leaves.
Bleaches out the damp bruises of ruminating clouds.
Perched upon the mossy gate.
The dreams of children reach beyond a gaze in the distance.
The branches of trees grasp the fading light.
And turn to charcoal in it's cool fire.
Long grasses pick up the whispers of the wind.
A song without words