Camp

Amar en Meleth

What if I lived right there where the butterflies swayed in the air? 

What if I lived right there? 

The birds chirped, and flew away. 

What if the narrow streets were alive to the brim with color? And not gray with emptiness?

What if the tears didn't rain down the walls alive with the whiteness of summer?

What if the butterflies weren't gone, and the birds?

What if I lived there, right there, and not here in the middle of the forest by a sizzling fire?

I want to go back to that small town where the narrow streets smiled.

100 Word Stories