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Literature Text
Lying upon the bench lazily,
The bars press into me, bleeding the cold into my skin like black ink into paper.
Any hint of warmth is whisked away by late autumn's bitter breath.
Gazing up dreamily,
A brilliant blue floods my eyes, serving as a stark backdrop for the sharp, razor-like green of the pine needles in the branch overhead.
A single pinecone keeps watch over the arm of the conifer; a lone sentry keeping vigilant watch to guard the secrets kept within her parents firm, sturdy body.
Breathing deeply,
I can smell the sharp tang of fallen needles and leaves that litter the ground,
decay never feeling more alive than at this very moment.
Realizing fully,
I know this is what it is to be alive.
Through this autumn gaze the cycle of life passes by, rounding the finish line to another year.
The bars press into me, bleeding the cold into my skin like black ink into paper.
Any hint of warmth is whisked away by late autumn's bitter breath.
Gazing up dreamily,
A brilliant blue floods my eyes, serving as a stark backdrop for the sharp, razor-like green of the pine needles in the branch overhead.
A single pinecone keeps watch over the arm of the conifer; a lone sentry keeping vigilant watch to guard the secrets kept within her parents firm, sturdy body.
Breathing deeply,
I can smell the sharp tang of fallen needles and leaves that litter the ground,
decay never feeling more alive than at this very moment.
Realizing fully,
I know this is what it is to be alive.
Through this autumn gaze the cycle of life passes by, rounding the finish line to another year.
This is an older piece I found buried in the depths of my computer. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated. 
© 2012 - 2024 coprite
Comments3
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Good imagery.