A window looking out to a white cherry blossom tree With a steaming cup of hot coffee On the window sill. A writing desk by the window Stacked with books. Sheer curtains on the edges, Moving gently with the wind.
For dance was her expression of freedom. Moving smoothly like a breeze, sometimes flowing vigorously like the waves. Sliding and gliding, swinging and turning. Always energetic, always having fun. Her final dance move ended with her head held high. And every time she threw the ruffles of her skirt in the air in the passion of her dance.
On a fine snowy, winter evening, I donned my cozy layers of warmth and stepped out to buy a bottle of milk and a loaf of bread. Walking down the hillside I noticed something rolling down the snow.
“Must be kids playing with snowballs.” I said to myself and continued walking.
Then all of a sudden the snowball landed near my feet. I stopped when I saw something glistening under the snow. It moved and I could see a pair of shining crystal eyes, it purred and wiggling itself out of the snow.
I bent down slowly, “Hey there, you furry little friend!”, she replied with a soft mew and followed me all the way to the bakery. I fed her a few crumbs of cheese, she purred contently and we walked back home together happily.