Morning Walk

A Story by Melon Pan

The smell of the fresh cut grass while I take a slow and steady stroll on a mid summer morning, is like mother natures pancakes and syrup. The moistness of the air fills my brain with nostalgia and sleepiness. I bend down to get a feel of the small droplets against the bright green grass. The dew soaks into my glistening skin like how a sponge absorbs water. The nude pink worms that dig into the ground are the ripples of the ocean meeting the minuscule pebbles know as sand The mud colored tree bark, filled with tiny crawling creatures on their way home. The crumbling, brown powder on the ground stains my fingers as if I were painting a picture. Falling leaves are dancers giving us a performance. We hear little whispers pass through our ears, the wind, telling us to keep a secret. Those water-filled cotton balls in the sky watch over us as our guardian angels sent to us from the magical place called heaven. The mini airplanes in the sky calling us for attention like a baby cries for its mama. Walking through a new path feel like going on an adventure in a foreign country. I don't know where I am going, but at the same time I do.