Tree to tree the children run, the parent close behind. She giggles as she circles her brother, she circles her mother. The tree is old, but new all the same. The daisies dance against the wind, and for once, the mother knew peace. She sat down on the grass, with the innocent toddlers tiddering on sleep in her lap. She told them a story from old, and sang a Celtic tone. They rested all day, taking in the peace of nature. She knew well it had to end, but what could be so wrong with a couple more minutes stolen. A couple more minutes with the winds free, a few more days with the children of the tree.
YOU ARE READING
Happy and Derranged
AcakI'm going to be writing a series of stories, hopefully all pretty short. They will show my frustration with life and the people around me. They'll also show what interests me.
