The Dark Place

Midday, hazy, clouded sun shadows creep and crawl along the grassy run bent and saturated by the constant inundating rain. The emerald greens and blossoms that bloomed fade into some strange yellow pallid hue that looms where no creature dare run, step or fly. The garden once effervescent with protruding life forms is a sallow dingy memory of lost spring time once adorn and the paths so clear and open are muddied in the flow. The humid day causes all to languish lamenting the day on end without light or sun anguish as the trees hover low, branching on the ground. Vestige phantoms appear like ghosts of time where nothing is constant but mere prisoner in the grime of gloomy days and darkening space in the dark place.