literature

Still

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Literature Text

The stillness in the air precedes
An adventurous night with many deeds
Good or bad, who is to know
When a place is so very empty

Quiet remains, still unbroken
But the stillness is slowly fading
A vine, creeping up its column
In this abandoned place

It keeps climbing, higher, higher
Sprouting leaves and white flowers
Other vines twitch, contemplating
Breaking their stony state

The flowers bloom into roses
Other vines leap to race them
Stillness dies as plants do rise
Up their respective columns

The flowers streak with red and pink
And really, who is to think?
Such a lovely place exists
Yet nobody must see

Fragrance fills the air
The flowers bobbing their heads
A long forgotten sound appears
From the memories of the magic of the place

Laughing echoes
Glasses clink
Forks clack on plates
And heeled boots resound
From the cracked stone floor
The smell of delicacies cooking
The sounds of excited words from all the looking
Ghosts of the people
Who had come to see this place

It's hardly at its former glory
Flowers only do so much
But Magic tries to remember it all
The happiness and such

Then Night begins her steady crawl away
And Magic sighs, receding
The voices die off to fade away
The flowers return to buds
The vine that started in all falls
And curls on the ground, brown
Not many vines remain, but
They do not think it aloud
...maybe a description later
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