Spring Blossoms
Chapter 0:
Edward sat alone in the meadow, meditating. He had been left alone by his wife and daughter, who wished to spend some alone time with Charlie. It was a Swan Day, as he liked to call them. He chuckles to himself, as he feels the wind through his bronze colored hair. As his skin sparkles in the daylight, the smell of fresh dirt, morning dew and spider webs filled his nostrils. He allowed his diamond hard skin to feel the soft grass, moving his sleeveless arms slowly across the green blades.
Edward closed his eyes, and began to listen. He hears the soft rustle of the grass, the calm blowing of the wind. He hears the flutter of a butterfly's wings. He hears the faint marching of the ants. He smiles contently, admiring the beautiful sounds of nature. At that moment, he wished he had a notebook and a pen, so he could write down the music that was beginning to form within his mind.
Suddenly, a strange sound. Edward listens to this sound intently. It is the voice of a woman. She sounds rather frustrated. Edward, feeling curious, decides to move closer to her location. As he draws closer, he begins to hear a pencil writing on paper. He can finally make out her words.
"I had seen the finest pieces of jewelry the world could ever produce. I had seen shards far more valuable than any ruby, I have seen stones that shimmer brighter than any diamond on this world. These shards are actually pieces of a broken heart, the stones are tears. They belong to a strong woman, a woman who…" Edward begins listening in on the words being spoken aloud. "No, no. This is awful. It doesn't even rhyme."
"Leah?" Edward approaches the writer. "Is that you?"
"Oh, you." Leah begins to put away her supplies. "Listening in?"
"Aren't you going to finish?" Edward smiles. "It was a good poem."
"Ugh, it didn't even rhyme." Leah places her book bag's strap on her shoulder, and gets up.
"Not all poems need to rhyme." Edward grabs her by the arm. "There is such a thing as free verse poetry."
"Hah, my Literature professor would get a heart attack if he heard you say that." Leah faces Edward. "He says free verse poetry is not true poetry at all, because it lacks the core elements of poetry: Meter and Rhyme"
"Your teacher is an idiot." Edward kicks away a stone. "Literature is not measured based on style. Literature is measured based on substance!"
"Well, substance isn't going to net me an A." Leah scoffs, picks up a stone, and throws it against a tree.
"Ugh, that is why I hate literature classes." Edward picks u a stone, and crushes it with his left hand. "They don't teach, they indoctrinate."
"Yeah, whatever." Leah begins to leave.
"Your poem is beautiful." Edward's words make Leah stop. "It's about how the tears from an emotionally strong woman are far more valuable than diamonds, because they are so much rarer."
"How did you…" Leah is perplexed.
"Guess? No, it was an analysis that I made based on your words." Edward smiles. "I'd like to see that poem when you finish it. If you'd let me, that is."
Leah smiles sheepishly. "Well…I'm not very good at poetry. But…"
Leah sat down again, and began to furiously write down her poem. Forgetting every reservation she had previously, she allows her own muse to inspire her, to direct her pencil, her hand. She blows away her eraser leftovers. She bites her lip.
"This sucks." Leah considers tearing away the paper with the offending poem. "Forget it, I'm no poet."
"Can I at least read what you wrote, before you throw it away?" Edward smiles when Leah, though reluctantly, hands over her poem. He reads:
I hold in my hands something
That is far rarer than diamonds
I hold in my hands something
That is harder to find than pearls
I hold in my hands something
That shines under the moon
Maybe once every hundred years
Seen by few
Adored by less
Valued by none but the lucky few
Sought by none
Rare, beautiful,
Fragile, tender
It is a broken heart
"Wow." Edward smiles. "Phenomenal. You have a real talent."
Leah smiles. "You're just saying that."
"I mean it." Edward pats her shoulder. "You are amazing. I'd love to read more."
Leah blushes, and smiles. She decided, that will be the poem she will turn in.
