Disclaimer/Claimer: I own Dara, but not the song or Ireland. I also don't know if clover roses are real, but I call this one beautiful flower that, so yeah.
Dara Taheny walked on the roof of the building, the fingers on her left hand grazing along the collection of clover roses. The smoothness of the petals relaxed her body as she continued on her way.
"I never made promises lightly," she sang, her eyes seemingly fixed on the sky, but she was realy seeing Ireland, with its beautiful rolling hills and the soft sounds of a piccolo in the distance.
"And there have been some that I've broken." The fields of golden wheat swaying in the wind, the children laughing as they ran, carrying flowers of all sorts.
As she continued her song, she became lost in the wonderland that was Ireland. She loved it, ever since she was able to see and hear, or even smell. She remembered her first smell: the fragrance of clover roses and herbs being ground together for a perfume.
"And we'll walk in fields of gold." With the conclusion of her song, Dara left her Ireland home to return to the city surroundings of Manhatten. Where the endless fields of grains and hills had once been now stood building after building. Instead of the children's laughter there were the calls of newsies trying to sell their papers. And where the fragrance of herbs and flowers once wafted, there was the smoke with the faintest hint of the clover roses in front of her.
No matter how much Dara enjoyed the city, she knew that nothing could compare to Ireland.
**
There it is, I hope you like it.
§shasanixie§
Dara Taheny walked on the roof of the building, the fingers on her left hand grazing along the collection of clover roses. The smoothness of the petals relaxed her body as she continued on her way.
"I never made promises lightly," she sang, her eyes seemingly fixed on the sky, but she was realy seeing Ireland, with its beautiful rolling hills and the soft sounds of a piccolo in the distance.
"And there have been some that I've broken." The fields of golden wheat swaying in the wind, the children laughing as they ran, carrying flowers of all sorts.
As she continued her song, she became lost in the wonderland that was Ireland. She loved it, ever since she was able to see and hear, or even smell. She remembered her first smell: the fragrance of clover roses and herbs being ground together for a perfume.
"And we'll walk in fields of gold." With the conclusion of her song, Dara left her Ireland home to return to the city surroundings of Manhatten. Where the endless fields of grains and hills had once been now stood building after building. Instead of the children's laughter there were the calls of newsies trying to sell their papers. And where the fragrance of herbs and flowers once wafted, there was the smoke with the faintest hint of the clover roses in front of her.
No matter how much Dara enjoyed the city, she knew that nothing could compare to Ireland.
**
There it is, I hope you like it.
§shasanixie§