Donald Zolan

Donald Zolan

The warm, afternoon sun caresses the child
As she strolls through the vast sea of yellow dandelions.
The cool summer grass tickles her delicate feet.
She joyously plucks the dandelions from the ground
Believing she can capture their beauty forever.

But she doesn't know.

The child spends all day in the sun

Enjoying the peace and tranquility.

Only the jubilant songs of the Robins break the silence.

The sun's warm rays grace every inch of the meadow.

The child is happy, she has no worries.

But she doesn't know.

A gentle summer breeze carries the scent of moss and soil

From the dark woods behind her.

Her mother's warnings about the woods ring in her innocent ears

So she does not dare to venture into the dark forest. 

She is safe.

But she doesn't know.

One day she will grow tired 

Of picking the same old weeds, from the same old field.

The flame of desire and unrest will ignite and grow.

She will turn against her mother's word,

And enter the woods. 

There she discovers, from the decaying leaves and tree stumps,

Beauty does not last forever.

The woods are dark and damp. She cannot see where she is headed.

She becomes lost. She worries that she won't find her way home. 

She hears the crisp snap of branches behind her. She is not safe. 

The world beyond the field is terrifying. 

Now she knows.