The Weather

Created and Composed by The Enchantress of October 13

My breath makes strange, swirling patterns on the window glass.

What I see swiftly liberates a sigh from my lips and convinces me, with a sneer and a grimace, to not write what I see outside my window.

The empty roads are disheartening, the signs in shops ripping tears out of my eyes. The signs apologizing for the inconvenience. So instead, I jerk my pen away from the page.

I tear it out, crumple the page and throw it into the fireplace. It quickly catches aflame, and the ink bleeds and contorts itself. Instead, I write the dream. Who needs reality, anyway?

My breath makes strange, swirling patterns on the window glass.

What I see swiftly liberates a smile from my lips and convinces me, with a nudge and a wink, to write what I see outside my window.

I let the ink from my pen flood the page and uncork a bottle in the back of my mind.

I describe it all; the people stopping and smiling at each other in the street, the trees lining the avenue and the tall, sandy townhouses sheltering the street.

I describe the newsagents at the far end of the street. The book-store smiling from number 12.

Rosie and Shane Hamilton are working in their garden, but really the newly-weds are just staring into each others' eyes. Richard Downing is painting the door of number 16.

I crane my neck to see the Jerry kids, Holly, Jaiden, Layla and Rory, having a water fight.

Rose Dakin is perfoming a play to some kids she decided to foster, three girls, something like Luna, Raven and Ivy. She stops to read them a story, smiling.

Venus Parson is putting a sign up in the window of the newsagents.

Everyone is happy. It's almost like...... like a dream.