Sunset

 

It's the sunset, the sun sticks out its golden tongue to lick the peaks of the Alps. Its scorching drool trickles down on them, turning them into smoldering coals. Tranquility surrounds me. The melodies of the singing birds disappear the moment they return satiated to their nest where perched on the solitary tree. But soon the stillness of the air is broken by the sound of bleating sheep, among them my grandpa appears holding a bottle of fresh milk upon his giant shoulder. The sun rays completely faded, the vast sky a sour plum, reflected a magnificent twilight. Hand in hand my grandpa and I paved our way towards our cottage near it a rippling stream, that flows in a zigzag way from the mountaintop till down, like a snake chasing its prey. Our foot softly stepped onto the cottage threshold, while the smell of the warm  buttery breads greeted us. In response to this welcoming scent, we eagerly rolled up our sleeves and began to enjoy the delicious food under the candlelight and the warmth of the fireplace. We eat until we we're full, and then I feel as if I am a bird, soaring towards my white bed which is like a cloud floating above the hills, valleys, and rivers. In my imagination, I see numerous colorful meadows, and I start counting them one... two... three... four... and as I reach the fifth, my eyes close, and I immerse... I immerse in my sweet dreams.