Winding Road

Eclipsed by the full-grown trees, highlighted by the sunset shades in the sky, stood the start of her past. Layered bricks that formed her character; the creator of the creature that carries the baggage. The swing still shrieks in the shadows, as the weeping willow dances in the neighbouring meadow. Her footsteps creep to the ledge of the porch, as she skillfully balances her weight on the boards. Driving down through the winding road, foot on the pedal, her bags by the door. She leaves what is left in the past behind, with a road up ahead and herself to find.

Published by notapeepbutlotsofpaper

A silent voice with lots to say. I speak with pens to stay away.

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