On the Glade Path
On the cool red soil that enriched the crude path, walked a confederation of reluctance, sorrow, and the grace of stunning beauty, to alight upon an amber glade by sun’s offerings. During sterling, still moments of her appointments, she was alert to Death’s ethereal presence. In a guarded sanctuary of solace, slid into a delicate pocket of her innermost being, resided her every hope and aspiration. There will be no trespass over this bridge, to gain entrance by force or deception, that she would unhand all of what her life was worth. Priceless are the biddings of my thoughts collective sum, that march into days expunged of color and harmony. I must cache away these moments, not lifted unduly, but carved and formed for a presentation to pondering good will, to benefit another who tarries in the ways of darkness.
Her paced quickened momentarily, perspiration rose up warm to the surface of her flush face and as the sun soothed her soft creased brow, a discerning comfort immersed her in a wash of gladness: she would not contend with soiled laundry today…it was Thursday!
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