Thy Crimson Tears Make Me Thirst for More: part 6
Time to update this sappyness again. Not high class literature, dropping a line would be nice...
These two go together, by the theme at least, maybe they are linked other wise too. What do you think?
I had a dream of her. It was all so real; when I woke up I was trying to search her from my side. All I found was a cold sheet. I closed my eyes and memorized the dream: sunny sky and a meadow, her dancing amongst the flowers barefoot. It seemed important, her being barefoot. The sun was shining from her curly hair and her laugh filled my ears. It had been a long time since I had heard her laughter. She had a garland made of cornflowers on her head and she danced. She danced and danced and laughed. I was hypnotised by her dance and in trance I watched her moves. Suddenly she fell to the ground next to me and looked me straight in the eye. Her green eyes drowned me. She smiled and pressed her lips to mine. I had almost forgotten the softness of her lips. She parted from me and she smiled though her eyes were sad. That's when I woke up. I knew it was time to visit her again.
***
Blue cornflowers grew wild in his backyard, right next to the strawberry field. There was also a stone standing alone in the edge of the forest, just beside the house. Cornflowers were standing there next to the stone in a handmade clay vase. Some of the flowers were getting old already, the dry flowers looking sad at the lonely stone. He came out of the house with a pair of gardening scissors. He headed to the strawberry field, to the cornflowers. The flowers fell to the ground as he cut couple of them and somehow didn't manage catch them. He bent over uneasily and picked up the fallen flowers from the ground. His hand began to tremble. He took the flowers to his other hand and buried his shaking hand to his trousers' pocket. A small tear appeared to the corner of his eye, he closed his eyes and the tear rolled to his cheek and dried away. He walked to the stone, took the dried flowers away from the vase and set the fresh ones to it. His hand caressed the stone and the markings on it, the letters and numbers. The hand he was using began to shake again, he tried to stop it with his other hand, but the shaking got worse. In his trebling the vase fell over breaking into pieces against the tombstone. Bitter tears fell down his cheek as he tried to pick up the broken pieces. One chard cut his finger and blood drops fell on the grass. The chards fell back to the ground and he burst out crying. It was two years of her passing and he was getting very old and lonely. And the shaking of his hand wouldn't go away.
These two go together, by the theme at least, maybe they are linked other wise too. What do you think?
I had a dream of her. It was all so real; when I woke up I was trying to search her from my side. All I found was a cold sheet. I closed my eyes and memorized the dream: sunny sky and a meadow, her dancing amongst the flowers barefoot. It seemed important, her being barefoot. The sun was shining from her curly hair and her laugh filled my ears. It had been a long time since I had heard her laughter. She had a garland made of cornflowers on her head and she danced. She danced and danced and laughed. I was hypnotised by her dance and in trance I watched her moves. Suddenly she fell to the ground next to me and looked me straight in the eye. Her green eyes drowned me. She smiled and pressed her lips to mine. I had almost forgotten the softness of her lips. She parted from me and she smiled though her eyes were sad. That's when I woke up. I knew it was time to visit her again.
***
Blue cornflowers grew wild in his backyard, right next to the strawberry field. There was also a stone standing alone in the edge of the forest, just beside the house. Cornflowers were standing there next to the stone in a handmade clay vase. Some of the flowers were getting old already, the dry flowers looking sad at the lonely stone. He came out of the house with a pair of gardening scissors. He headed to the strawberry field, to the cornflowers. The flowers fell to the ground as he cut couple of them and somehow didn't manage catch them. He bent over uneasily and picked up the fallen flowers from the ground. His hand began to tremble. He took the flowers to his other hand and buried his shaking hand to his trousers' pocket. A small tear appeared to the corner of his eye, he closed his eyes and the tear rolled to his cheek and dried away. He walked to the stone, took the dried flowers away from the vase and set the fresh ones to it. His hand caressed the stone and the markings on it, the letters and numbers. The hand he was using began to shake again, he tried to stop it with his other hand, but the shaking got worse. In his trebling the vase fell over breaking into pieces against the tombstone. Bitter tears fell down his cheek as he tried to pick up the broken pieces. One chard cut his finger and blood drops fell on the grass. The chards fell back to the ground and he burst out crying. It was two years of her passing and he was getting very old and lonely. And the shaking of his hand wouldn't go away.