Hidden Yard, The

A light wind dances by as the hidden yard is unveiled. Lavender
tears suspend in the air, casting a demeaning shadow upon the ground.
These flowers, faultlessly capturing the true essence of natural
beauty, magnify that which is splendor and hopelessness in an entangled
mess. The hanging branches sway in rhythmic harmony with the dreary
wind, caressing the neighboring fence unknowingly. The distinctly
patterned barbed wire stands in a silent pain as dried vines strangle
the fence carelessly. A tiny bug creeping along the ground cringes as
the putrid smell of rotting wood comes from a dying ladder beyond the
metal barrier. The worn out steps look up helplessly at a dismembered
wheel, admiring the intricately designed spokes. Swinging as a pendulum
against the contiguous house, the wheel ignorantly chips away at the
neatly applied white paint. A tiny speck of pallid lacquer floats off,
drowning quietly in the air. As the childish wind wisps by the
lilac-kissed blossoms, the onlooking sun leisurely tucks away behind
the hidden yard.