The shed perched in the deserted meadow bound by barbed wire as if to contain its elegance. The door left a jar giving light to the withering lumber for the lamp gives now only a haven to insect. Layered and steep is the roof as if a witch’s hat. Bursting at the seams with colour the garden holds secrets of the flowers. A rusty wagon wheel used to spin in time to the music of the fairies that once danced in the moonlit sky but now is guardian of the memories. Ocean of flowers has dribbles of red like blood stains from the war. White flower buds look pure like newly fallen snow on a winter’s day. Stems of the flowers form a forest hiding life. As the clear sky is taken over by smoky clouds the sun forms rays of light as if to bring power through the sky. The fairies left when the dark clouds came but now they will never see the enchanted beauty the shed keeps. But hidden quietly within the mounted pot plants are the elves of the woods.

By Rati

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