Requiem to life
It was the perfect time to smoke a cigarette.
The cliff was magical before his eyes, the afternoon sun shining through the cold clouds mixed this perfect combination of light and magic. Down in the meadow, the dandelions danced, gliding like will-o'-the-wisps carried by the frigid wind as he felt his insecurities come alive at the circles they made, rising to such a towering height in their enchanted waltz that was like nothing he had seen before. He then gazed up, seeking relief in those gloomy clouds that, opposing the almighty sun, disobeyed the law of nature to run with the wind, ignoring their waiting destiny away from the warm protector of life.