It is an incredible November evening out there and we just got back from a beautiful walk. The leaves are all down and the air is cool, but not cold. It is raining, but not the kind of rain that needs an umbrella. Instead, it is a gentle spray that feels fresh against rosy cheeks. And the tiny drops on the evergreens in the yard glisten from the light of the street lamps, like sparkling, perishable diamonds.
When we got to the gate it was too soon to let go of the mist. So we stood outside. And stood a little longer. And said nothing. And said nothing in the silent night rain.
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4 comments:
Oh, yeah. I'm digging this. ESPECIALLY the last graph, which reads like a stanza of a poem. Actually, it could be a poem as is...try some line breaks:
When we got to the gate
it was too soon to let go
of the mist.
So we stood
outside.
And stood
a little longer.
And said nothing.
And said...
nothing
in the silent
night rain.
Great stuff, TI!
i like the suggestion. thanks FC.
Yes, lovely images here! I love the one of you two standing in silence in the mist. Beautiful. And I like FC's line breaks.
I kind of held my breath as I re-read this piece. So crisp, so clean.
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