OOM: Somewhere down and out-ward
The sunsets are always glorious, here. So, too, are the sunrises. And even in the middle of the day, with the sun high overhead and a cool breeze blowing, everything is almost too beautiful to be believed.
This includes the golden-haired girl (woman) standing out by the water, grass bowing softly around her as she looks toward the east, toward--
home
--the horizon.
In the air is the faint smell of lilac and violets, of the sweet depths of summer.
And in the corner of her vision there is, perhaps, the faintest flicker of gold, fairer and warmer by far than the sun overhead.
"Daughter, what do you here?"
This includes the golden-haired girl (woman) standing out by the water, grass bowing softly around her as she looks toward the east, toward--
home
--the horizon.
In the air is the faint smell of lilac and violets, of the sweet depths of summer.
And in the corner of her vision there is, perhaps, the faintest flicker of gold, fairer and warmer by far than the sun overhead.
"Daughter, what do you here?"