Epic Language

The bell eventually chimes, like that last section of G surprise, arises me from the llulaby of slumber. Students get ready with their package, prepare to tramp over hills and dales, and reach sweet refuge. However, the sky seems sorrowful, tears with a string of pearls swiftly, I wonder who incurs the sky. Standing under the roof, lonely and desolate, seeking for familiar backsides. A horde of buzzing bees concerns their children in a swivet, are worried that they may be pour by the tears. Looking at them, a warm hand holds another tender hand, with unlimited satisfaction emerges on their faces, my jealousy started to linger in my chambers of  heart. It seems perpetual to wait for a familiar face, perpetual to wait for a wonder, my eyes start to full with worries, is willing to bear but runs out like a stream, enough me to swim. The time seems to freeze at this moment, however, it breaks down when the sun struggles to come out. She asks me: "Did you wait for a long time"? Yes, she is the backside that I keep seeking, the backside that I anticipate to look for a wonder. She is my mom. Holding her hands, we walk slowly back to my sweet cabin, a place I always take refuge. After the sky become brisk, the rainbow emerges in a way that encourages me. Waiting, is not always eternal and bad, it may conceal another starting.