The Old Cobble Stone Path

'The Old Cobble Stone Path' I used to love to tread the old cobble stone path. Embellished with  lillies daffodils, and wild daisies that lavished their perfumes into the aura of a fervent summers day. I adored the frivolous breezes that would softly whisper through my strands of golden curls and toss them in the wind. The sun would radiate across the blue skies, and beam its hues to settle and finally rest upon the cobble stone path. In return, it sparkled like diamonds and cast its radiant colors off its otherwise, dull surface. The cobble stone path would lead me to an old, run down, two story plantation. A place   my grandparents lived so many years ago. I use to follow that cobble stone path almost every afternoon. And each time my feet treaded those little magical stones, I would be tarnsfered back into time. That old plantation would come to life for me with green meadows that would sway to and fro, as if dancing to the rhythym of the the mild winds that blew across its country seat. The once new, (pale in color) shutters had added a decor, to a once affluent style. And at times I could almost hear the cries of laughter, echoing through its many years of active corridors. I would sit there for hours, mesmerized by all the old reminents left behind from years gone by. The old wood stove nestled in the corner, with its stove pipe, once extended to the ceiling, now grasping for the skies, As I set perched on the old wooden floor, I could almost smell the aromas and scents of the apple pies. Baked fresh with the apples of the old tree in the orchard near by. Not far from the old house, the well still stands, yet has long been dry. Still dangling from its worn out chains, an old watering bucket creaks as it sways back and forth with the wind. Many a times, I leaned over that old well and listened to the echos in my mind. At times the echos seemed not of mine but maybe of some other back in time. Never failed, I'd sit there in an almost transit state, til the sun would start to fade beneath the rolling hills near by. The dusk would start to fall upon the old plantation and the shadows of the hills would start to hover above. I knew then it was time to leave. Tread the old cobble stone path once again. The old cobble stone path that guided me back to my reality. The path that would lead me back to my own mortality. BY: Sandy/San-d Written October 22nd, 2001 © on Oct 22 2001 01:00 PM PST, Sandra Kay Ratliff   0 • 10