The Moment in the Quiet Little Park
Expos Writing
23/9/2012 D/M/Y
Mr. Emerson
Outdoor Descriptive Essay
The moment in the quiet little park
As I placed my heavy backpack on the old bench, I feel tiredness coming up to me, as well as the sadness, because I have to spend in the park for an hour just to write some descriptive essay. So I grabbed my pencil and notebook and started to look around, the park was lonely. The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. There was me, sitting on the bench, writing this essay. It was a quiet Tuesday late afternoon and not many people appears, I sat there alone on the ancient bench, the cold wind blew at me, and down to my spine. As I looked up In the sky, it is transformed into a colorful horizon; filled with endless streams of orange and red.
The tree by my side soon gathered my interest, on the edge of the bench where I was sitting, the ancient tree sat hunched over, the gnarled, old king of a once vast domain that had long ago been turned to pasture. The great, gray knees gripped the hard Earth with a solidity of purpose that made it difficult to determine just where the tree began and the soil ended, so strong was the union of the ancient bark and grainy sustenance. Besides the ancient tree, there was an enormous baseball park; the grass is green as a precious jade. People with their pets’ plays joyfully on the grass, the enjoyment on their face are precious and reminds me the fairy tale books I use to read back in my childhood age, the quote “ happily ever after “truly exist. Even I barely remember my
23/9/2012 D/M/Y
Mr. Emerson
Outdoor Descriptive Essay
The moment in the quiet little park
As I placed my heavy backpack on the old bench, I feel tiredness coming up to me, as well as the sadness, because I have to spend in the park for an hour just to write some descriptive essay. So I grabbed my pencil and notebook and started to look around, the park was lonely. The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. There was me, sitting on the bench, writing this essay. It was a quiet Tuesday late afternoon and not many people appears, I sat there alone on the ancient bench, the cold wind blew at me, and down to my spine. As I looked up In the sky, it is transformed into a colorful horizon; filled with endless streams of orange and red.
The tree by my side soon gathered my interest, on the edge of the bench where I was sitting, the ancient tree sat hunched over, the gnarled, old king of a once vast domain that had long ago been turned to pasture. The great, gray knees gripped the hard Earth with a solidity of purpose that made it difficult to determine just where the tree began and the soil ended, so strong was the union of the ancient bark and grainy sustenance. Besides the ancient tree, there was an enormous baseball park; the grass is green as a precious jade. People with their pets’ plays joyfully on the grass, the enjoyment on their face are precious and reminds me the fairy tale books I use to read back in my childhood age, the quote “ happily ever after “truly exist. Even I barely remember my