the witch

Robin is again kicking the ball like the master soccer player, he was always on top of his game. The street always seem so cheery in the morning when Robin, together with his friends played soccer in the moist-filled ghetto-like street. Kids like Robin's age doesnt mind the coolness of the morning, playing endlessly like there's no tomorrow but it's days like these when Greta dreams of a far away white sand beach get-away. It's days these like when everyone in the street she lives in wants to talk about the waether all the time.
The sun is still hiding behind the gray clouds and rain is always in it's toes to wake those who are deep in sleep and to put to bed the rest who woke early to fix everything up in the household for the loved ones who will set out in their daily rounds.

Greta stirred her coffee and put some cream on it. She liked it creamier than the usual today. She then opened the drawer in her study table and looked for the cigarrette case for some marijuana. She smiled upon reaching it and found some dead leaves of the herbs. Greta grabbed the pipe and passionately fixed the dead leaves on the mouth of the pipe that will soon come to life by the flames of her orange lighter then she sipped. She felt the purity and the peace that rushed from the mouth of the pipe to the tip and it touched the insides of her lips and into her mouth. She inhaled sourly and let out a thin line of smoke from her nostrils and into the air but the essence of the once dead parts of the leaves remains in her spirit and shows in her eyes. The breath of the morning is now complete with the few remaining puffs she have yet to smoke.(june10,2009)