Emily's Creative Writing

A boy is out there in the woods Basking in the sunlight Curling himself into the leaves and trees Dancing around the shadows and Eating the berries that grow at his feet Free of life for these moments Golden and light Home until the hours fade to dark Ignoring the cold that brushes his arms Jumping through the breeze and Kicking at the leaves swirling around him Long gone are the days of play Making his head spin and mind reach for imaginary voices Now it's the nature he loves, it Owns his heart Pleases his soul, making him Question all that is around him Recharging the broken shards of his mind Slowly and quietly and then all at once Turning the broken boy into a masterpiece Under the old oak tree, right there Vacant from the rest Worlds sweeping by him in a blink Xenophile at heart, this land is unknown to him Yet he finds home here, amongst the Zephyr, falling petals and clouds in the sky

And, like the snowdrops Stretching across the fields, She finds sweet moments Sweet ideas Pockets of sweet aliveness To stretch across the year And let her stay for another day

It's easy to get lost in the soothing tranquility of the waves crashing upon the shore. The nostalgia, it overpowers, it tightens the strings around your heart. The strings that hold together the tingling warmth of a childhood spend between the waves. Dancing in the lilac fields while the rain floats down soaking you with memories. A sunset filling the sky the grass tickling at your heels and all at once the fear fades away.

Clay in hand and paint brushes in her pocket she moves and molds away all of her bad habits and thoughts that rip, tear, shread her masterpiece, and with just the tools in her hands she crafts her new life and it's everything she needed it to be.

Time is her hair Sitting on her shoulder tops And growing, folding neatly down her back. Back to the start with one quick snip Like a hare in a field It snips and dips and dives Back to the hill tops Ready to do it all again tomorrow.  -------------------------------------------------------- "Do you have anything that plays with the concept of time" - Keanu Reeves, Always Be My Maybe. This one was written with the prompt to write something that plays with English hence the pace and homophone usage. 

If she decides the mountain is worth of her climb the clouds will be blessed and the waterfall drop drop dropping down the rock side will look upon her power with an envious eye. If she decides bridges are to be built the flames that lick around her feet will find that their blazing minds just aren't hot enough to match her extinguishing defeat. If she decides the words are powerful enough for her tongue every syllable will fall on its way to the next as she speaks melodies of beauty and power her stories enough to make even the great libraries blush.