witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-

Photobucket
There's a shadow cast on the horizon that haunts the plains it falls on.
It spreads over hillside and mountain top, slowly, like dark fingers stretching out from a clenched fist.
There's whispers in every rustle of the autumn leaves that speak to the trees.
"Fall, fall, fall. Drop, drop, drop."
Let everything descend from every branch; from the arms of the oaks to the roots of the pines.
A calculated release. A methodical dive.

Spirited sheets of gold waltz within the sunshine, and the shadow concedes. Those black fingers will soon have white knuckles as winter proposes a sparkling, icy gem to the gold band of autumn.

And as every season collects its change, I feel rich in staying the same.

If only everything gold could remain.

12:43 a.m. - Saturday, Oct. 02, 2010

Then - Now

Latest Entry

About Me

Archives

Notes

DiaryLand

Contact

Random

other diaries:

atwowaydream
friskyseal
alethia
secret-motel
nakedpride
jjiill
edgarfrog
browndamask