A leaf shudders and moves as a gentle midnight breeze gathers its courage to disturb the peace. It traces a delicate spiral, the lone dancer on a stage that all can see. Just behind a fleck of red pushes upward arching, reaching, tempted to touch the closest thing to it. An outstretched hand allows it to gently settle there, amid that quietness. Now my arm quivers, the wind has found its voice, told all that it still haunts this place. Whispered a tale to captivate an audience, turned its back just as all listened and faded. In that hand, cold, quaking, like a hand that searches for life in a loved one, nothing remains.
Vision starts to distort and before the trees can move to comfort a soul the first tears fill the empty expression that still tries to cheer others. Small tremors quake the shoulders into submission, small tremors force the mind to realise what was lost, what was never caught. In the dark, a tale is told in silhouettes, voices drift on the wind, and images blur and shift. It seems a far off place, a distant dream, too real to be anything else. The tale talks of happiness, of love, of troubles, of joy, of loss.
The feelings deaden within, back to the job at hand as the game face presents itself. A comment on a tired face, some sadness passes my ears. All else is blocked, no colours grace the grass. The fire wanes and dulls. The eyes don’t pierce so much anymore, they don’t see what is snuck underneath this paper thin shell. The winds graceful words beckon not to turn away. A tree sheds its tears, pleads to tell them why. But the colours fade; fade back to blue black skies, to the way things are meant to be. A smile widens, prophesy of a good night ahead. These eyes grow heavy, burdened with guilt for giving in to a colourless world…
~ Ugg43 on DevianArt