Through the window of her lowly hut she gazed at the shimmering waves yonder.The tall leaning palm trees concealed her hut; their shadows flickering on her face in adaptation to the sun’s movement. The shrill call of a seagull cut loudly through the dense smog that wrapped the misty morning like a blanket. Then the sun came, half sunk in the dancing sea like a biscuit dipped in a cup of tea, and lingered for a moment before it rose. And when it finally did rise and moved up into the peachy horizon, it brought in an essence of beauty. The sun rays spilled through the canopy of the palm leaves and she sighed in admiration at the exquisiteness of it all. Although the old dame was lonely and cooped up in her hut, the beauty of each morning filled her lonesomeness.
No comments:
Post a Comment