Jostling through the grass on a fine summer's day, a pot I did find shining from the gleam of the sun's glistening rays; edging ever closer to a green hat on a head on a body in stern composure. "Quarreling with me will get you nowhere, you hear?" My face now glum with the threat of a tear. "Seeing is believing isn't it, me lad." My face now confused, no more looking sad. "All the gold in the world I wish to thee." "Why thank you, kind sir." Staring at a face like a mirror in front of me. "I struck gold, I did, meeting you today." Him or me, to the lad, tee-hee; which one, mirror mirror finally caught one, which one, 'o luck have thee.
About the Creator
James Green
Weaving words into captivating worlds, this author's storytelling will transport you to realms of imagination and leave you breathless.
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Start writing... A story about what pray tell? When the words flood the mind as if they fell, the conundrum of a mystic with no mysticism to sell, only words covering the mind, like a turtle sitting in his shell. Compelling? Maybe, if the dance of words scatters in the fingers and the mind calms soothing the thunderous storm of a writer with nothing to write, in fright that the muse has taken flight. But, the well, dear writer, is deeper than one thinks, just sit and wait for another day exists, for the time is yours to do as you so wish. Calm.
By James Green4 years ago in Poets
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