1 minute read
Orchids on the Windowsill
from A. Magazine
By Evie L. - Year 8
Rivers of rippling pastels, and him sitting before me, Eyes outshining the dazzling cornflowers.
Smile so captivating – the queen of the night would seem monotonous. Laugh like a drop of sunshine, so pure and loving
He reached out and plucked an exquisite bunch of orchids And handed them to me with a look of fantasy. Explained how they would look stunning on the windowsill. Words hypnotic, painting pictures of home.
Collage of colour with orchids leaning.
Framed memories dotted on the wall. Pulled from reminiscent phase by news enough to devastate.
Moon circling, Clock turning, Hope fading, Time passing
Until a click of the door, Thump of boots, Relieving tone, Memories flooding, Adrenaline roaring, Orchids rustling, A glance and nothing. Hope gone, Love gone, Just an ageing woman staring blank, Wilting orchids leaning and drooping, A mouldy brown covered in flies, Paired with a yellow letter laying in tatters on the dusty boards.
