If It Could Speak, What Would It Say?
By bdgrey
The eye of sand has seen every land, having travelled forever, miles spanned. It lazely moves without much progression, constantly aware of its own discretion. Tales it could tell as the years passed on, battle's, death and love foregone. This insignificant grain is as old as time, yet it lacks a voice so stories it must mime. Unlike Homer who travelled and told great tales, this grain of sand's word shall forever fail. A very old house, with generations of age, has stories to tell of an ancient, gray sage. If these walls could talk, what would it say, countless stories of families in the most peculiar of ways. The forest beyond the back gate too, would also have a voice to muze. Tree houses and hunting may both have been done there, within its confines through history, it could do nothing but stair. So the oldest of things have so much to tell, but are hindered by lacking, what we so often take for granted. A voice. Written December 23rd, 2001 © on Dec 22 2001 04:30 PM PST 17 • 0 • 12
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"The eye of sand has seen every land,..."