The House Seemed Friendly Enough...

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The house seemed friendly enough, the sun was happily cascading over it and the fact that little creatures crowded around it and looked towards me in a welcoming manner seemed to help. I unlatched the gate and walked, with increasingly cheerfulness, towards the pale blue door and the anticipated joy that lay within in, bound up in a certain inhabitant's heart.

I Saw Him On A Brown March Day...

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I saw him on a brown March day, one of those end of winter days where the trees still held their murky sway. The tiny buds, fresh round curls of leaf on the branch tips, and confetti-like snowy blossoms were the only sign that the still quiet world was readying to be rent by clambering green life. He walked straight across the copse clearing, the dark spindles of sleeping trees mirrored down among his antlers, he twisted them up and gazed towards the sky, the drab clouds passed us by, ignoring everything but the sullen winds.

On The Light Mist...

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On the light mist of the evening, she would tread upon the newly formed stars, their lights blinking into abundance which would soon rain down from the drifting clouds. She blessed each one with a gentle sweep of her fingers across the sky. The black sky above her emptied, the lights fell onto the earth and ran into the rivers, rising to twinkle along the surface on their journey out to sea.

Into The Freeze...

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Into the freeze, they sat huddled in the carriage as it rolled among the swirling ice winds. All the world was white, save the black, trodden path and sleeping trees. They reached the largest, a black spire on the road, it's branches spiking up towards the pale heavens. Here they dismounted, they approached the trunk and lay their stiff hands upon it. The air quickened its pace, circling the tree and pulling them ever closer to the hard bark with every gust. They were pressed flush against it, and the warmth came. A stirring in the dead shell, a pooling glow of life awakening started to seep through. 

Always Now, His Head Was Forever Bowed...

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Always now, his head was forever bowed. His feet clung more closely to the ground, unwilling to leave the hard comfort of the pavement. His whole world became stone grey, as his cloudy sighs dulled the air. 

It Was The End Of The Winter...

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It was the end of the winter, and the frost still clung to them with an icy lightness. They gleamed like a fresh moon, clothes and skin as white, as they danced together on a frozen ground. Their heart flames, fanned by the circling delight, saw their embers glow, sending burning bursts along their veins and delicately thawing spots of skin. Small buds appeared where the heat had touched, unfurling, with increasing rapidity into pastel-coloured spring blooms.

They Kept It In A Frame...

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They kept it in a frame, crinkled slips of paper threaded together, a reminder of the old days of flight. The wings forever propelling forward, ceaselessly breaking itself against its wooden cage.