Silly little one-shot! Nothing much to say… *grin like the Cheshire cat*
Note: this is a continuation from my story, the Key to her Past. If you haven't read that yet, I suggest you do, else much of this won't make sense. Like Camembert. Not very Ichihime like, if you haven't read the other story. Go read it Now! :D
Other than that, hey, how are you? Miss me?
Another Note: You'll notice the poem at the end. Well, I wrote that and it's my first attempt so hey, go easy on me alright! :) You guys are oh-some!
The Camembertian Fair.
The mattress suffered under the weight of the little girl's restless feet, and the duchess had to let out a long, tired sigh. Orihime Kurosaki sat at the edge of the bed and smiled tiredly at her daughter, who was currently oppressing the bed springs in an attempt to reach the ceiling. And what a high ceiling it was. She jumped and she stretched, jumped some more, and when it finally seemed like it wasn't worth the dear effort, she collapsed heavily on the plush pillow. Giggling, she scurried under the quilt, erupting in shrill laughter as her mother's hands tickled her hidden form.
"Momma! I - pff - I'm not - mmm - ticklish!" She announced, and sat up abruptly, clutching the green blanket, her chest heaving and her mouth set in a steady frown. Her mother stared at her, mirroring her expression in a most motherly fashion, and crossed her arms. That is until she broke out into chuckles. Her daughter tried hard to avoid it, but soon her scowl shifted into a grin.
"Oh mommy!" She wailed, arms flying around her mother's neck.
Belle Kurosaki was a lively little girl. She resembled her mother greatly, the auburn hair now proudly reaching the middle of her back, the soft grey eyes, and the beaming smile that was almost blinding to the beholder. She shared her mother's appetite too, always craving something edible to keep herself busy when she wasn't talking. But she was a five year old girl, what can you expect? She had her mother's wild imagination, and her unconditional will to put others before herself. A lovely child, wouldn't you agree? Yet despite the similarities, she was undoubtedly her father's daughter. For when she frowned, no force on heaven or earth could deny the man from whom she inherited that particular trait. Her eyebrows furrowed, her eyes would narrow to slits, and she would set her jaw so firmly, even Ichigo would be impressed. She had the determination and strength that was so undeniably her father, for when Orihime was the modest yet persistent believer, Belle was the outspoken and action-before-word spawn. Orihime would always tease the little girl as being daddy's little angel, and she would cough and frown and shake her head defiantly, until she broke out into a wide smile. There it was, she'd look like her mother all over again.
But where were we before the incessant ramble, ah yes, the mother and daughter moment. Well, this was exactly what Ichigo walked in on when he opened the door.
"Who's the one making all that noise?" Despite his scowl, there was a slight smile on his face as he laid his eyes on his two most precious women in the world.
"Daddy!" She was daddy's girl again. Orihime shook her head again as Belle hopped off instantly and rushed to choke her father in a hug reminiscent of those of her mother's. In the midst of the joviality, nobody noticed a small head of orange creep in slowly and make for the luxurious bed. Slowly, quietly, stealthily, it moved closer to the target, closer, closer, closer...
"Philippe. I know you're there, honey."
"Oh mom! You could have at least pretended to be frightened out of your wits!" The nine year old boy jumped on to the mattress and shifted his weight forward. Philippe Kurosaki, another member of our favorite aristocratic family. There really wasn't a better way to describe him than to say he was his father on the outside and his mother, entirely, on the inside. The tangerine hair, the tall stature, the strong brown eyes that spoke depths of his soul... All of it was a result of his father's contribution. But where Belle was her father's daughter, Philippe was devoted to his mother, and unconsciously imitated everything she said or did. The way she laughed, the grace of her footsteps, the strength of her conviction... All the details that made him who he was was because he was Orihime's son. He was much milder than Belle, but a lot more curious, but he enjoyed horse riding and fencing with his father. Being the first born, he always took it upon himself to protect his sister and brother, and again, there was an uncanny resemblance to Ichigo there.
"Uwah!"
Remember that little brother I told you about? Well, said brother is crying now, probably because we didn't mention him yet. Oh, little Eric, what's to say about such a sweetheart? He was still a baby, you know. Barely a year old, so the only thing substantial about him was his head of orange hair and his lovely grey eyes. Besides that, he was a regular toddler. He cried when he was hungry, or sleepy, or cranky. Usually a quiet child, who gurgled when his mother sang to him, and flailed his arms when his father attempted his vocal talents too. He was adored by everyone around him, a little ray of sunshine in the already sunny world of their lives.
As Ichigo cooed over his youngest son, Orihime giggled as his characteristic scowl was replaced by a bright smile and focused eyes. He caught her amused chuckle and turned to face her innocent grin. "Hime?"
"It's just so cute, Ichi!" She caught her cheeks in pure happiness and giggled further, infecting her children too. Ichigo huffed and brought his son closer, bearing the traitorous laughter and embarrassment for Eric's sake. He walked to the bed and sat beside his wife, falling back gingerly on the rich green sheets. Belle and Philippe raced to the bed, and in the span of a quick moment, the entire family was on the over-worked mattress.
"Aren't you two supposed to be in bed?" asked the father dangerously. The two in question stopped their pillow fight and stared at him guiltily. "Well..." Both fidgeted nervously.
Ichigo sighed. He'd come back after a long day at the neighbouring county, expecting his family to be all tucked in and snoring peacefully, hoping for a relaxing night beside his wife's comforting form, but he should have known better than that. This was HIS family we're talking about, added to the fact that they were to attend the annual village fair the following morning, there was no possible way he would find his children in bed before the crickets sing.
"Belle, Philippe, will you promise to sleep if I tell you a story?" asked Orihime gently, her hand on Eric's soft hair. Immediately, the bed shook as the siblings bounced in affirmation, and Ichigo groaned in disapproval.
"In bed. Now." He ordered, and almost miraculously, brother and sister scurried over to their pillows, pulling their sheets well above their noses. Belle reached out for Eric, and when her father finally passed on the gurgling baby, everybody waited expectantly for the duchess to begin. Her eyes widened at the audience, and she nervously giggle to herself.
"What do you want to hear today?" She mused, a dainty finger placed thoughtfully on her chin. Ichigo shrugged and adjusted himself so that his head was now lying peacefully on her lap. Ignoring her whimpered protests, he waved it off and closed his eyes. "Go on, Hime. I'm listening too."
The children chuckled, and Orihime sighed in defeat. She brought her legs up to the bed, and leaned back into the oaken headboard. Fingers unconsciously knitting through her husband's hair, she smiled as the perfect story came to mind.
"Would you like to hear about the first Camembert Annual Fair?"
Ichigo's moan of grimace wasn't heard over the loud squalor that greeted her. Even Eric was crying in agreement. She laughed and cleared her throat, eyes wandering to the curtained window to her right. She could make out the crescent moon smiling happily down on the merry little family, and the dark sky and shining stars detailed the otherwise dreaming lands. Looking back at the gleaming faces, she beamed and straightened herself.
"See, it all began before Philippe was born, that would be nine years ago, wouldn't it?"
They nodded.
"Well then, it was a beautiful September morning, auntie Tatsuki and I were sitting at that little fountain near the bookshop-"
"Shunsui-uncle's bookshop!"
"Yes, sweetheart, where was I? Oh yes, a beautiful September morning..."
The winds were calm and the clouds were cheery, against a brilliant blue sky. The trees were quivering ever so gently, their leaves yellowing, signaling the approach of autumn. Very few of them flew in the quiet breeze, fluttering gracefully upon the cold winds, until one of them fell beside a pair of feet silently.
"Looks like an early winter this year, Aya-Orihime." noted the brunette, twisting the delicate foliage. She blew it away, and turned her attention to her best friend once more. Orihime sat beside her, thoroughly absorbed in the novel she held, hardly blinking. Tatsuki sighed and smiled wearily, lifting her fist.
"OWIE!" The poor redhead massaged her abused skull, and raised confused eyes.
"I said, it looks like an early winter this year, Hime."
Orihime frowned in thought for a moment, and looked around her. The trees were gradually, yet steadily turning bare, the breeze was less warm, and the sky was cloudier than usual. She sighed wistfully and closed her book, a recent discovery from the duke's library, and a delightful one at that.
"Autumn is beautiful, isn't it?" she whispered dreamily. Tatsuki searched the sky.
"It's sad. Everything goes to sleep, everything stops living for a while, life becomes so weary and difficult." she frowned. "It's cold, it's lonely, and your fingers feel like they're better off fallen! I don't know, Orihime, autumn means the impending wrath of wintertide."
"It's not that," the duchess breathed. "Autumn is all about, preparation. The trees ready themselves for the drudges of winter, the ants stock their food, the bears go into deep slumber... it's awfully charming. To know that everything around us has been taught how to prepare themselves for hard times to come, God has taught us too... that instinct within us." She beamed at her friend's snicker.
"What am I going to do with you, Hime?"
That moment, Shunsui Kyorako, the good old bookkeeper next door, strolled out leisurely. He acknowledged the maidens and sauntered past them, regarding the trees with a skeptical eye.
"Autumn, eh? I'm getting old." He chuckled. "Feels like forever since we had something new around here." Tatsuki breathed in exasperation. "Well," he smiled, "Besides the day we discovered our Ayame's identity." The auburn haired woman blushed and lowered her head, as peaceful silence enveloped them once again. That is until the sound of horse's hooves against a stone road interrupted the reverie, and all lifted their eyes to see the familiar duke, now a common visitor in the quaint old village.
"Ichigo!" cried Orihime, forgetting all about the book in her hands. Tatsuki merely waved with a smirk; and Shunsui greeted him with a nod. Ichigo Kurosaki dismounted his steed, Prince, and walked swiftly to the melancholy gathering.
"Hello again Hime,Tatsuki, Shunsui."
Orihime raised her brows in confusion. "Why didn't you send Hanataro? I thought you had to speak with father?" his lips lifted in a carefree grin. "You sound almost displeased, my lady. I can go back if you would prefer that."
"No, it's just-"
"Do I need a reason to want to see my wife again?" he crossed his arms, waiting for the reaction.
And there it was, always unfailing. She reddened to such an extent, her ears were pink! He chuckled and shook his head, that is until he saw Tatsuki's fist. "A-Ahem, there is another reason I came here. Rangiku is back at the castle, eager to see you." His face twisted in grimace. "Honestly, I don't think I can stand much more of her childish jokes!"
Orihime clapped her hands in glee, dancing around Prince and rubbing his startled face. "Did you hear that boy? We're going to have another picnic! It'll be wonderful!" she turned her neck. "You know, my lord. We were just talking about how lonely autumn's going to be." She giggled in childish amusement. "But now there's something to look forward to!"
Tatsuki huffed and got to her feet. "The sun's leaving, you better be on your way. The Black Forest isn't so pretty when it's dark." She smiled slowly. "Come back tomorrow, Orihime?" her friend responded with a gleaming smile and a strong pump of the fist.
"Come on, Hime. Back to the castle."
"Mommy!" cried Belle, shifting under the blanket. "You haven't mentioned the fair!" Philippe was lying quietly beside her, eyelids heavy, breathing deeply. Eric was already fast asleep, and Ichigo was partially awakened by his daughter's demand. Waving his hands randomly, he sighed and tuned on his cheek.
"Hime go on." He mumbled, pulling up the sheets like a little child. The duchess smiled wearily and heaved. "I was telling you about everything that led up to the fair, sweetie. But I can skip to the next day if you'd like."
"Please, mommy? I want to hear the whole thing before I fall asleep."
"Okay then. The next day, daddy and I, Tatsuki, aunt Rangiku, and many of our friends were all sitting around the fountain once again. Aunt Ran was talking excitedly about a recent carnival she'd been to in Paris, and daddy was, well, you know how daddy is around auntie!" she giggled.
"You all should've been there! There was bread and juice and songs and dance and oh it was all so exciting!" Countess Rangiku Matsumoto exclaimed, bobbing up and down as though she were sitting on a porcupine.
"When was the last time we had a carnival like that?" wondered Madame Unohana, gently crafting a flowery band.
"Not since I was here, and believe me. I've been here 44 years."
"It's a big deal to arrange one, isn't it?"
"Well why not try?" asked the duke nonchalantly, leaning against his horse. Everyone stared at him as though he'd spoken a foreign language. "There's a lot of folk here. A carnival could quite easily be arranged."
"I'm not sure, Ichigo…" Uryu thought aloud.
"I think it's a fantastic idea!" cried Orihime, jumping to her feet. "We don't need to invite everyone, just within this village and some of our neighbours! Can you imagine it? A fair!" her eyes were practically stars. "The Camembertian fair!" she envisioned in the distance.
"It takes a lot of money…"
"Don't worry about that." commented the duke.
"We'll need a lot of time…"
"It's not like we're going somewhere." stated Tatsuki.
"Then… what are we going to do?"
"Leave that to me!" announced Rangiku, standing in a flurry of motion. "I'll be the official planner!"
"Then we're all doomed." said Ichigo, shivering.
"Oh Ichigo," Orihime gave him a stern look, and he gave in with a groan. "Fine. But if you make me do anything silly, I quit." He looked away grimly. "And don't you dare give me that look, Orihime."
She smirked and clapped her hands. "Thank you, Ichi! Alright then, what should we do….?"
…..
A good three weeks was spent preparing for the big event. Surprisingly, there were a lot more people than accounted for! Orihime and Hisagi teamed up to make the food, and between the baker and the chef, there was enough to feed an army! The children of the orphanage were ecstatic upon hearing the news; the unanimously decided that they'd put up a play. The caretakers; Tatsuki and Orihime, were indubitably enthusiastic about it!
In the midst of the planning, someone suggested having a talent show of sorts, where the winner would get a special recognition. The idea was welcomed dearly, and it was agreed upon that Jushiro would be the judge. After all, who better to judge than the village judge?
So a talent show was expected. Great. Except, many had their apprehensions about what to display. Keigo excitedly suggested singing, it wasn't much of a mystery though why nobody encouraged him. But following his example, many decided to show off their choral gifts and their dancing feet on the makeshift stage, few others invested in poetry recital, a couple settled for a comedy display, and Uryu…
Oh! Uryu is another story! See, the man had a passion for sewing. So, he decided to display some of his best pieces. But Yumichika, the vibrant designer, also had a panache in the art of fashion. Neither would accept the other's participation, and it was finally decided that the two would have some sort of battle between themselves. You know? To see who was the better designer. And thus they toiled and stitched, needle after needle, cloth after elegant cloth, burning the midnight oil in the name of their pride. But who could stop them, they were much too comical to be taken to heart! So they were left to their own plans, and everybody waited for the big day with bated breath.
The marquise Rukia Kuchiki also displayed fervor when informed about the fair. She said nothing, only that her act would be a secret and no one was to know anything of it. So there's not really a lot more we can tell you about it, you see.
Ah, it was a marvelous time! They say half the fun of the journey is the journey itself, and whoever 'they' were, they couldn't have nailed it more appropriately! Three weeks whizzed past so speedily, it was already the day of the celebration before anybody knew it.
"Welcome! To the Camembertian Fair!" a banner hung over a lonesome stone at the end of the village. There was a crowd of people rushing about, screaming about lost caps and missing buns and treacherous dance partners. It was a hilarious scene, set on a pleasant autumn day, this time the orange of the trees was proof enough that winter was indeed on its way. There was no stage as such, only a carpet of fallen leaves in front of the fountain, and many chairs for the audience. Well, at least when the audience wasn't on stage, for most of those present were Camembert's own folk- people taking part in the fair. It was a beautiful feeling, a sense of community and togetherness; even as winter's chilly fingers crept upon the cheery family.
The drum roll signified the beginning of the event.
"Welcome, welcome all you lovely people! I am Keigo, your most loyal servant and beloved host! We are gathered here today-"
"Hurry up, Keigo! This is a fair, not a funerary service!" someone shouted from the audience. He huffed and stuck out his chest. "Well! Of all the nerve! I have-"
"That's wonderful, son!" said Shunsui beside the judge's chair. He stood up and smiled serenely at the crowd. "Hello, everyone! I'm sure we all know each other! So I'd like to introduce the first act in the Camembertian talent search; Miss Momo Hinamori!"
The petite girl shyly walked to the center of the 'stage' and smiled nervously. "Hello! I would… I would like to sing a song, a simple song." Watching the eager faces, she inhaled deeply and began. A beautiful melody it was, her voice was soft and innocent, as she sang a sweet love song. Calmly, gently, she finished it with a curtsey, and blushed at the applause she'd received.
"Th-Thank you! Thank you!" she hurried to her seat.
"Wonderful Momo! What a nightingale we have in our midst! Next, we have Keigo, performing a magic trick!"
Well… let's just say it wasn't his particular talent. He attempted to make a muffin disappear, and he hid it behind his back too poorly. Distraught, the boy ran off crying miserably, almost dramatic. Shunsui Kyorako scratched his head in mortification and gave a goofy smile. "Eh… we would now like to call upon, Madames Rangiku, Kukkaku and Yoruichi, who will present what they call 'The little Frenchwoman.'
The three women strolled to the center boisterously, and they sang and danced, and my! It's safe to say that the title of their work was very misleading! It was beautifully performed, yes, but at the end of it, mothers had to cover their children's eyes and many began coughing loudly. From behind the fountain, a loud voice boomed. "What was that supposed to be? This is a kid-friendly show!"
Rangiku simply laughed and addressed the flustered duke. "Come now, Ichigo! Don't be such a humbug!" he fumed. "Humbug my-"
"I-it was, expressive, exceptionally so Aunt Rangiku!" exclaimed Orihime in an attempt to quell the brewing feud. Her husband huffed and turned back, cheeks red from embarrassment. "I don't know how you can be so patient Hime!"
"Aww! You are so cute together!" squealed the vivacious countess, smiling her sugar sweet smile. Both duke and duchess stammered and looked away yet again, suddenly curious about the next act. They say Keigo once again, this time doing a sort of tap dance, but he ended up tripping over a pebble and falling splash into the fountain behind him.
"Hehe, what a persistent fellow!" cried Jushiro, watching as said fellow dragged his feet in contempt. "Next, we have a most awaited event, Uryu and Yumichika in… the Fashion Off!"
One by one, two women came simultaneously wearing both designers style, and everyone gawked. First was Nanao and Isane, both wore an ankle length dress of the SAME design, the SAME pattern, even the SAME cape, only one was orange and the other yellow. They walked forward flushed, twirled, and walked back. Again, the next two women were so similar; people were starting to forget they were watching a fashion battle. All ten dresses were almost identical, that by the end of it the audience was sitting in cricket-silence, stunned as to how to respond. Even the judges were bewildered, looking at each other quizzically and finally giving in with a sigh.
"Well… that was a surprise! Let's see now, we would like to welcome the kids of the orphanage who are to present the Shakespearean play, the Taming of the Shrew!"
"Mommy, was that the one… you helped in?" Philippe yawned as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Ichigo was already fast asleep, snoring quietly, his ever-knitted brows raised and his jaw relaxed. The duchess lifted sleepy eyes to the little boy all tucked in, and responded with a beaming smile.
"Why, yes it was dear! Ah, the play! What a lovely experience it was!" she exclaimed softly and closed her eyes in reminiscence.
The Shakespearean play, courtesy of the village orphanage, was an exciting event. All the children spent weeks practicing for it, and they were trained by three very different people. Orihime used to teach them how to deliver emotion into their words and actions, Ichigo used to help them memorize their lines and play their character well, and Tatsuki assisted in terms of props and dialogue. They used to visit the castle twice a week, create havoc just to spite the duke, they'd then sit like little angels when Orihime walked into the room, and from there, practice would commence. It was all so well planned- Kate Minola; our beloved shrew, Bianca, Petrucio, Christopher Sly… every character was so well-dramatized that the play was an instant success!
As the children said their lines zealously, Ichigo and Orihime kept prompting them from behind. Tatsuki would have been there too, had she not been on stage grumbling about her situation.
"Oh for the love of God!" she whispered hoarsely, from her compromising position. See, the fierce brunette insisted that she'd rather watch the play from the sidelines and not actually participate, but ultimately, she was coerced into doing something on stage! And now she stood, dressed as a modest little tree, mumbling in exasperation. A tree? Really? That's the best they could think of? She sighed and forced a smile, but exhaled deeply when the children skipped around her. Sweet Lord, how long is this thing anyway?
A good while later, she walked, no, thumped off of stage, and was caught in a constricting hug by her best friend.
"Hime. I'm never. Doing that. Again." Orihime giggled and nodded, hugging her tighter. Ichigo tried hard to suppress his laughter, it was a Herculean effort when he commented that her roots were taking up a lot of the stage. Maybe he was brave, or maybe he'd forgotten the simple fact that her kind of trees were supplied with brutal fists, but whatever it was, when the entire group was called on stage for a standing ovation, the duke walked up solemnly with a black eye and a deep scowl.
The show continued beautifully! There was so much variety; people came in performing daring tricks with stones and sticks, they sang to the melody of the bluebird's song, they danced so gracefully, so artfully, some execute theatrical monoscripts and silent plays, others tried their hand at skillful literature! Oh you should have been there! The applause, the cheers! It was all so uplifting!
You should have especially watched Keigo's acts- from a faulty magician to a two-footed tap dancer, then a croaking singer to an over-dramatic poet, every time he left the stage wailing rather exaggeratedly. Finally, he even tried his chances on standup comedy, and yet again, his persistence failed him.
"Oh how cruel! You do this to spite me!" he exclaimed in mock despair, throwing his arms in the air. but when he did that, it was strangely amusing… some folk began smiling.
"I tried! I pulled a carrot out of my hat, I tapped my ankles, I sang the Marseilles, I even did Shakespeare!" he was on his knees. "Why must you all be so cruel?!" his head was in his hands. "Alas! Tis a shame to belong to such a heartless community!" he struck a pose. "Good. Bye." He caught his hat and stood up in a flush. "I will take my much desired talent elsewhere! Hmph!"
What was it? Nobody knew. A strange combination of dramatic poetry, scenic poses, and sarcastic irony; or may they were just sympathetic, but whatever it was, Keigo received a… dare I say it… a standing ovation!
"Merci! Oh thank you, thank you!" he cried, sending out air kisses. "I'll never forget you little people when I earn my fame and see the world!"
End of standing ovation.
After a rather surprising turn of events, but hey, what wasn't surprising about the Talent Show, a few more participants were left. Now you may ask, where was our Orihime and the duke in all of this? Well for the latter, he strictly stated that he be exempted from the performance, seeing as he contributed more than enough financially as well as spending time with the children. And he was too stubborn to be made into a tree. That left Orihime, who soon stood before the audience pleasantly flushed and nervous. She looked back quickly, only to be encouraged by her husband, Tatsuki (still an overgrown weed), and Rangiku. She turned back to the audience once more, and inhaled deeply at their expectant smiles. She finally gave her brightest smile, and introduced herself. She beamed and chirped and announced that she'd like to recite an original poem. The audience clapped.
And that was what she did. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, she began. It was titled, 'These Autumn Leaves.'
Soon after her performance and a few others, Jushiro and Shunsui thanked the contestants and wrapped up the competition. The crowd dispersed, making for sweet bread and creamy cheese. The fair carried on till early evening, and finally, the winners of the show were announced!"
"Philippe? Belle?" All Orihime received as responses were soft snores. She chuckled to herself, and tucked them in snugly, a smile spreading on her tired visage at the sight of their sleeping faces. Her husband was fast asleep too, and due to the unyielding position she found herself in, what with his head preventing her from moving an inch, she decided to lean back into the headboard and awaited slumber's beckoning call. Her eyelids were falling, heavily, slowly, almost shutting out the peaceful world…
"Hime? Are you still awake?"
Ichigo's eyes stared up quizzically, a small smile gracing his features. Languidly, he squirmed and stretched until he was lying on the pillow properly. With his head in his hands, he stared up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, a faraway look in his eyes. His wife giggled beside him and scurried under the blanket too.
"I remember that poem… it was the first time I was undeniably sure that authorhood was in your blood." She smiled and held onto his hand.
"Do you still recall the words?" she asked quietly, failing to conceal her mirth. He rolled his eyes lovingly. "Hime. What made you think I'd ever forgotten them?" she chuckled and leaned closer, finally closing her eyes. Ichigo stayed awake a little longer, thinking about that day at the fair. How she nervously coughed and tripped over the stone, laughing at her clumsiness. How she stood confidently before the crowd, daring everything society believed in as a woman composing her own poetry and reciting it. How her eyes glazed with the words, her hands drifted, and how instantaneously hearts were enraptured. It was all too vivid, too clear.
"These Autumn Leaves…" he began, soft enough for him to hear.
'Tis strange, to say the very least
How we stare helpless as they dangle forth,
To watch nature ripen her frail leaves,
falling lifeless, from the wilted bough.
Ah! Tis autumn's golden call unyielding
Faithful as the sun that delays its wake,
And the winds the breath of it's being
Coerce the wild bird her home to forsake.
Not merely a while near the crackling hearth
Nor the loss of the radiant azure sky,
Despite the creeping claws of winter's dearth
There is more than what meets the eye.
For the barren tree is autumn's grace
Each fallen leaf a message to pass,
And so is the ant's quickened pace
Awaiting winter's impending frost.
Tis not so much as the colours may speak
But the wisdom behind the misty haze,
Every whisper of the chilling breeze
With caution, they seem to say.
'How mighty the fears about which you care!
When in the fog of the unseen end!
For just as God hath taught them to prepare,
You've been groomed too, to survive the bend!
Though winter's wrath looms as the sea's foam,
Life is undeterred and the earth does not fret.
But when you encounter a pebble on your road,
You crumble, having not seen the end yet.
So turn to autumn's winds, a soothing lullaby
The soft spun clouds leading a lurking storm,
For long back on a spring day, when the birds did fly,
We danced along, never expecting the bitter cold.
And such is life, a ballet of many hues
Often pleasant to the beholder else leaving a sigh
Ever changing, yearning for grey skies then cheery blues
Not even the mighty oak is immune to its ploy.
For at the peak of wintertide
When we have warmth and prayer,
The lands buried deep in soft white
Affects none in whose hearts there is a fire.
Aye, these fallen leaves, in their quest don't swerve
The explore God's earth before their final resting place,
For when autumn's breath has fanned our cold features
The pinks of Spring are but a whisper away.'
"Hime?"
"Hmm, Ichi?"
"I love you."
The duchess smiled consciously, already half asleep. "I know."
Just finished my pre-finals and was so stressed, I needed something to get my mind off of things. This poem is my own, I do hope you like it!
Silly little one-shot, what are you going to do? Hehe, loads of chocolate covered strawberries you sugarplums!
P.S. Not sure when I can post the new story though, hoping for June by God's grace. Lets see…. :/
God bless! And drive safe, okay?