At The End Of The Walk

From my book Into the Dark 

AT THE END OF THE WALK

​During the day walkers would park their weary bottoms, slug from water bottles, and then continue up on their journeys. Dogs would poke inquisitive noses into the bracken whilst their owners stopped to check their map. Couples would rendezvous, shyly kiss and travel on.

​The bench stood in its copse. Its wood carrying memories of when it had been a tree. Sounds of the horn blowing through Its leaves as his lordship cantered after the stag. Ladies leaning against its trunk as their beau picked them wild flowers growing around its base. It remembered its pain as the sharp blade of the wood mans axe bit into its bark.
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It sat, listening to the rustles of the wild animals. Feeling the wind flow over and around it. Hearing the birds chattering as they flew over it.
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It sat and waited for you

Abbie (226)

Manager + on large art site Pixels.com Site owner and painter of awesome oils and watercolours.

Wannabe author and hardcase treehugger. All opinions are my own. Personal site is at https://abbie-shores.com