I have always been obsessed with the past glory. I love to read historical fictions , a taste acquired recently . It is so basically due to my fondness for the settings.
I love to imagine the characters in their age old costumes ,walking with dignity and pomp. The ladies climbing up the stairs ,Gothic mansions with turrets the sparkle of fire when wood catches it during those long winter nights.
Knights and squires atop their steady steeds racing to battles , I marvel their courage. The languages ah! Those flowery tongues particular to the age , that my dears have a grace of its own .
Pouring over books at night in the light of burning candles perched on a sturdy oak table . Handwritten manuscripts decorating the library , beckoning a peek into their lives. How I love to place myself there!
Now I stand overlooking the garden from my castle transported by my mind to that happy place . Sun smiles through the chinks in the cloud , the land wore emerald , with a hint of ruby here and there .
I sashay down to my garden where my afternoon tea awaits . I place myself upon the chair and takes the cup of Earl Grey .The heat of tea metamorphosed to fumes that snaked up to join the breeze. I sip my tea and daintily nibbled a cookie while surveying the moors that envelope my castle.
The moors roll on untainted , sparkling like the First day of Creation . A joy wells up inside me to be a part of such a beauty , to breath in air perfumed with the scents of grass and flowers.
Sigh! I wish I could take a trip back in time or even visit those ruins of the past and pause to hear the walls whispering the tales they witnessed to those yearning for the details.