100 Words Only
Each new dawn brings forth beauty’s naïve doe-eyed uncertainty, with slightly parted lips, shallow breath exhales to the clock’s tick. Her moon does its duty, arching across the sky, far behind the good sun. Frustration follows temptation towards the cobblestones of twilight, before reaching the pause of midnight. There’s a certain ripeness and longing contained within the dark, where anything and everything is possible. While all is lulled by sleep’s stagnation, beauty’s uncertainty grows restless. No longer a keepsake, she envisions the once unattainable in the distance, across a field of thorns, her brave heart dares to barefoot the crossing.