Passing through the intricate wrought iron gate that neither keeps people out, nor souls in. Walking onto the dirt path slightly overgrown with grass and ivy vines that stretch from the forged fence to the limestone slab. A maple tree stump stands guard over the sacred site. A chirping cardinal perched on the decaying wood surface. Small fence tips are adorned with iron crosses, like spikes atop a medieval castle. The marker inside the boxed frame lies parallel with the settled ground that supports the heavy stone. A simple eulogy is inscribed upon this rock-badge to respect the decayed body confined within the earthen grave. Fragrant mourning flowers supplement the agrarian canvas. Breathe in the ecstasy of life, breathe out the all-encompassed.
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There is something unique
about the smell of a book. An ancient tome yellowed by old age may assault some, but perhaps to the daring reader the smell of dust is a sure sign of a great find and not a foreboding at all. What ancient mysteries might be found within? Deep in a hidden grove, surrounded by tree and flower
Plays the mischievous Pan on his wooden flute A fairy dances there, swaying playfully to the cheerful melody. She is clothed in vine and wrapped in evening light. The hair upon her head is like a crown of melted gold, And her eyes sparkle like the brilliant sun. |