An ornate and gold-edged book, of which inside are secrets even she doesn't know or understand. But tucked all through it are leaflets of paper, as if she'd rather not write in the book its self. Except on the first empty page of the book is written in exquisite, flowing penmanship her full name. ~ Lavender Cecelia Morgan.
Thursday, 20 August 2020
As howling winds sweep past moon bathed meres, echoes of howls pierce the night. Twinkling lights in entwine their ribbony veil across a baron night sky. The wretching cries born of sorrow seeps into my soul, searing it's depths. Joy and happiness all but forgotten amid the torrent tide, drowning one beneath it's waves, all but washing away the memory of happiness. Awaiting the small moments of joy that brighten the darkness with their light... Blindingly like a comet across the sky all but blacking out those twinkling stars leaving behind a darkness void of light til the blindness fades to show small twinkles of simple joys again.
