
WOODEN BRIDGE
This one is a little faded. But I can use the wood from the birch trees on the right. I can climb them and hide in the black. The wood from the trees I can use to light my fires at the water wheel.
The white picket fence in the distance needs to be painted sometimes. I will paint it with white wash. Slowing moving the brush, up and down, up and down, creating smooth lines and streaks, until it is done. It will be good when it is done! Everyone will like me again!
When I get hungry I can pick a cattail on the left. And at my fire I can boil them, or frickazee them.
The wooden bridge rattles when carriages cross it. Creaking squeaking, rusty nails. I stop to look out of the windows sometimes. The dust kicks up on the road. And the sun makes me feel safe and warm. I will walk to town on the road. I will pet the horses. I will buy rock candy and peanut brittle. I can smell the leaves. I will be in soon when my head stops hurting.
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