Amateur scribbles

Straight and knot less tree face the first axe. Fate is like finding gems while you were working on pebbles. Stars can't shine in sunlight. 

The venom from the snakebite in your dream cant kill you.

How hard a weed may try, he fail to stand a place amongst the flowers.

Is this real is this dream, that I meet you here. Still mind of mine is stirred, potion to my ailing heart. I wish I leave thousand years thus. Sweet the river that flows, beauty like a deer yonder. On the trees yonder hills, rays of shine slip through. I wish thousand years thus.

Accomplishment is reaching the summit of the hill where the heart has already left  foot prints.

"At the sun up, she forgot the firefly that helped her through the last night's darkness.

A lonely man stood alone, Affront him was a glass of whiskey. His hand was dark and wobbled, His speech jabbered in an inaudible note. He stared at the glass for a very long time, Tears of emotions streamed down his withered cheek. Slowly he groped for the glass that stood still, Shakily he brought it close to his lips. He rekindled the butt of a dying cigarette, Puffed in the last fumes of smoke. The whiskey flowed down to the dark tank in his liver, The nicotine pushed its way to the shrinking lungs. He licked the lost drop  of beer that clung to the rim. The night was cold and dark with rain brimmed clouds, one by one the people began to take leave from the bar. The hall otherwise frenzy with drinkers felt the eerie silence,  But  he stood firm, did not budge from the long old bench. He clasped the half empty bottle in his arms, he stretched his body about the bench and dozed off. The bartender did not wake him until the next day, little did ...