The Wordsmiths Book 2021

Forgotten

pitter patter pitter patter the thundering rain slides smoothly off my silk dress and soaks into my matted mousy hair

pitter patter pitter patter cold, alone with only the moon as my companion, I sit here in a puddle filled with tears the sky cried for me. it’s the same thing over and over again soon the sun creeps up casting a warm glow across the never-ending cobbled streets the puddle soon disappears along with any hope left in my heart the once emerald trees darken into an orangey-reddish-amber

and with the autumn breeze they start to lose their hair strand by strand leaf by leaf but they still stand even as the snow coats the land

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