toriroot
Under the bridge made of stone lived a girl who was not very young nor very old. She enjoyed the spring when small blossoms would grown at the edge of the stream and in the moss like snow. She was dirty and blonde, but sweet and fair. She spoke softly and not often and usually braided her hair. One day in the summer when the stream was dry and the day hot a puppy joined her the bridge. The girl was scared of the dog having unhappy and somewhat painful relationships with the breed previously, so she back far away when the beast came near, but the puppy was rather obvious and mistakingly assumed the girl wished to play.
Rainy days are for singing and dancing. You splash through the puddles with wild abandon. Laugh as the dirt on your jeans turns to mud then clear water. Dance until you heart burns and your sodden clothes feel light and warm. Splish! Splash. Drip and drop. The car had its bath and the trees a drink. Umbrellas are for shade.
Capture her heart. Rule the world. Grab her and drag her into the darkness where water ripples and moonlight bathes the soul. She'll be mine. All mine.
The leaves drifted along the river. There were stunning shades of gold and red and brown. They danced along between sunbeams. Like canoes or a lazy afternoon.