Growing up in the deep south I would be In my grandparent’s yard reintegrate new born puppies. Going to the cold Smokey Mountains I would go to The rushing falls running. On a snow-covered Christmas day my dad and I were ornithology the deserted downtown. Doing laps and laps on frightfully frosty winter nights Signing up for a new sport, scared but ready. Running. Sounds of squirrels, and creeks flowing in trails where I was silently Running Connected myself with nature and who I am deep down Inside. Unseen Shadow Worry hung over the room like a soupy fog, s silence was the only sound.
A dark, undefined shadow dashed before my eyes. Carefully, I crept behind the velvet-red chair, hoping to become unseen. Thick, smoke-scented alarm began to shake my senses, Left… Was a dark, defined shadow of dust-like ash.. Floating low in dense fog. The not so “Legally blonde” Like her “blonde” hair, she bleaches out her past with little, yet loud lies. Pretty pink on the outside but, blistering black controls inside. She walks slowly, silently… Alongside Bruiser, her aggressive black pit-bull, looking for her next victim.
Sneaking behind her ex, A sly smirk screams on her face as she does the bend-and-shoot. Now being the defendant, she is questioned by a pink mirror-like image. Opening the door, the scent of sugar filled my face with a smile. Gingerbread men danced throughout Grandma’s kitchen Presents hid beneath the pine-like tree, ready to be sent.. Looking out the frosty window, a familiar ghostly figure glanced at me… Now, everyone was eagerly eating those dancing gingerbread men Cross Country I can hear the beat of feet hitting the ground. I can hear roaring voices that irritate some ears.