By Caroline Yelverton, TIWP Student

The sun wearily peaks over the skyline, its bed of darkness awaiting its descent. 

Blades of grass dance against one another, 

creating a gentle melody as a soft breeze flows across the hillside. 

Golden poppies are sprinkled like fairy dust, tiny flecks of the leftover sunshine.

A swirl of golden and brown strands of hair dart across our faces.

Your arm, my shoulder.

The valley stretched in front, tiny homes lit up across every inch. 

A family sits down for their meal, an 30 year old boy switches on his tv,

Individual lives on display like a department store window.

A whisper, a small, dwindling thought;

Funny, really, the grandeur, the insignificance of it all.  

The sunshine finally bids its farewell and the waves continue to crash on the rugged shoreline, as they always do.