Sweet nothings
Jul. 2nd, 2004 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xaaraMy best friend is coming from Italy a week from yesterday, I'm learning how to play ragtime on the xylophone, I actually have been writing a lot, and I've cooked enough over the past week to feed a small army. I don't pay attention to the news and I don't watch television except when I know something specific is on. I stay up all night and sleep until the afternoon. I'm living in the perfect world of summer and nothing is going to burst my little bubble. I'm happy.
I suppose this drabble is technically late, since I'm posting after midnight, but enjoy anyway.
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Oak Tree, 1630 Revello Drive
I have stood here for a time longer than the young ones' memories. This house is mine to watch, to understand. Its fragility concerns me.
The white-haired one no longer watches the fair one from beneath my branches – the ash of his discarded cigarettes lies cold.
The sunrise child, who shone bright with the promise of youth, now moves without grace.
The red-topped one and her lover turn away from their communion with the Earth. I fear they attempt magics beyond their control.
The fair one is replaced by a machine.
So flows time – day to night to new day.
A/N: I wasn't sure what kind of tree it was (you know, the one Spike sets up camp under during his Stalker!Spike days), so I made it an oak. If you actually happen to know what kind of tree it really is, please tell me so I can correct accordingly. Thanks.
I suppose this drabble is technically late, since I'm posting after midnight, but enjoy anyway.
<<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>><<<<>>>>
Oak Tree, 1630 Revello Drive
I have stood here for a time longer than the young ones' memories. This house is mine to watch, to understand. Its fragility concerns me.
The white-haired one no longer watches the fair one from beneath my branches – the ash of his discarded cigarettes lies cold.
The sunrise child, who shone bright with the promise of youth, now moves without grace.
The red-topped one and her lover turn away from their communion with the Earth. I fear they attempt magics beyond their control.
The fair one is replaced by a machine.
So flows time – day to night to new day.
A/N: I wasn't sure what kind of tree it was (you know, the one Spike sets up camp under during his Stalker!Spike days), so I made it an oak. If you actually happen to know what kind of tree it really is, please tell me so I can correct accordingly. Thanks.
