24-4-17
I awoke. I awoke to the sound of the nightingale. A thin sheet of the powerfull breeze pushed me up to the point I was standing on my two bare feet, my sight still faint as the sun was scorching against the reflection of my glowing skin.
The slender layer of snowey and transparent wrapping my body let in the tepid air flourish through me.
The bottom of my feet could feel the crunch of the healthy and pure grass after every step I took.
I heard the nightingale, still singing as elegantly as ever. His voice so soft yet so fulfilling entered my ears and to my soul.
I followed the voice of the nightingale. Each high pitch tune he confidently sung out was perfectly engraved in the brain of whome ever may be the one who has heard the voice of the nightingale...and one of whom may be me.
I passed the willow trees, each swaying in the direction of the voice of the nightingale. My spirit delicately drifted me to the garden, I passed the Daisy flowers, smiling up at me. Their hands spread out, empowering me with their acceptance.
I hand picked a few daisy's and stuck one between the thousands of strands of my foxy red hair and kept one in my pocket for when I see my nightingale.
As I exit the garden, a full field was in sight. The family and relatives of the ever so sweet daisy's where scattered among the field.
The further I looked, I saw. I saw my nightingale. His voice so very precious, it favoured me. His back faced me.i gently walked closer.
His colourless brownish hair fluttered in the breeze. Though his hair was drab as ever, his melodious voice brought colour to my life. I tapped him on the shoulder, he slowly turned around to face me, and that was when I met my nightingale.
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Daisy Flowers And The Nightingale || poem/short story by J.A.P
PoetryA young girl has suffered depression for the last 4 years of her life and decides that she wants to make a difference. ( a positive poem To Help motivate those who are having a rough time )
