On the Garden Grass

And all of a sudden my little world plunged into darkness. The darkest one yet. For me. I felt like a forsaken feather, of no meaning to any world but my own. Pierced, drilled, struck hard. Betrayal. Envy. Hatred. Terrible torments bothering me from the beginning of time. I'd done nothing to deserve it. I found no reason to live anymore. So there I sprawled in the garden, arms on the delicate tufts of weed. Conjuring up a smile was a hard row to hoe. Happy times had withered like the weed. A familiar hand touched my shoulder. "Have you had dinner?" I touched it. It was ridged and old. Worn out like no other. Evincing the many decades of toiling. It was scarred, but the softest in the world. Five decades old, but as good as new. Her kiss was nectar. I had to live for her.