Wow - it's been WAY too long since I've written anything! My apologies! And I'm so close to the end of this exercise, too. XD (As always, this exercise is inspired by N.D. Wilson via www.ndwilson.com)
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It was a quiet afternoon, the sun streaming across the roughly mottled cement of the back porch, shadows from the railings stretching long and thin and pouring over the other side. The sky was a bright, clear blue, the clouds gloriously blinding in their whiteness. A small bird-house sat empty on a wire plant-stand. Small white flowers had hazarded the still-chilly nights and bloomed along the vines that draped over the bushes.
The light faded, brightened, and then faded again as a particularly thick cloud drifted lazily over the sun, the shadows on the back porch shifting to a pale blue and then to a starker contrast, like a camera trying to find its focus.
The skin of the back porch was rough, slightly sandy to the touch, with hordes of gravel pieces poking through where the smooth surface had eroded away with the rain. Just a taste of green was along the edges of the cement square, moss or algae that could only dream of growing into full form.
The sun, beaming out once again, bathes the back porch in a golden glow. If one could drink that light, it would rush down your throat in a warm tingle that would fill your entire being with a sleepy, glowing kind of light. It would taste of honey, and you would dream sweet, golden dreams.
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