The Apples

sun was dripping its last drops on a cold winter day. The red apples argued heavily in her arms. Wind, grey. She could never stand wind, it always came as a bad reminder of those days. Those past recollections threw an image before her eyes. Subtle and gently the warmth made her step slowly. A flash at the crossing, a sign. The white road just touched by the now silent apples was disturbed by her presence. The icy girl couloured in red the peaceful road. The weight was lifted, they were not heavy anymore.