Student Name

Assignment 2 – Descriptive Writing

Voiceless and reticent, the circular park sits surrounded by hectic, fervid streets. Keeping a
morose and melancholy expression, it appears to be spiritless-trapped in its own trance-
oblivious to the noise around it. As if it were a precocious child, it shuts its eyes to the frantic
environment. Ignoring its existence, pedestrians walk around it and head to the more attractive
destinations. The blinding lights of stores, the vociferous and deafening squeals of enthusiasm,
and the thunderous and boisterous beeps of the cars can be heard as they rush past. It sits
there. Voiceless and reticent, it is reluctant to draw attention.

Overlooking the park with an assertive gaze, the trees remain sturdy; they are insurmountable
gates that protect the park from the outside noise, guarding and keeping the peace within.
Delicate petals fall from the naked stems, gently being carried by the mild breeze. As if insecure
about their appearance, they recede, drifting further away from each other. With alluring and
charming words, the wind showers them with praise, wrapping and curling them around its
breeze. Drifting through the wind tenderly, doing a pirouette every once in a while, they show off
their blushed hues. It is an emulous competition of beauty, each petal fluttering along with the
rhythm of the breeze like heavenly nymphs, their flushed gradients placating the worries of the
wind. Kissing the air with their subtle movements, they tumble as they offer their blooming scent
to the world. The daintil breeze carries their aroma as they continue to show off their whimsical
beauty, battering their eyelashes and twirling their hair, winning over the audience with their
romantic gazes. Softly and curling up slightly, they land on the still water surface. Still as a
glassy mirror, it is gentle with the petals, careful not to tarnish their beauty. It complements them
with their pellucidity, shining their reflection off their surface.

Reflected in the water surface are the thin veils of clouds. They begin to fade in, swaddling the
trees and wrapping around them like a blanket. A larger cloud emerges in the distance; like a
divine, mystical dragon horse. It shakes its alluring mane-bewitching and captivating all-as it
flows down like a row of dominoes. Moving along with the breeze of the wind elegantly with
grace, it creates a mesmerizing vortex bringing harmony and peace with its compelling stance.
It drags its mane along the floor-painting the shades of amber as it sinks under the milk white
clouds.

Down below, the wind rustles through the greens, allowing the grass ebb and flow like a tranquil
ocean, somnolent and slumberous. As it cascades, it invites the gregarious animals back into
their houses; following after, the birds fly back into their nests and the ants crawl back into their
colonies. They sway to the night’s song, falling deeper and deeper into slumber as they bend
from side to side. Enchanting fireflies emerge from the shadows; they ignite the atramentous
night, rekindling the igneous rocks under the depths of a scorching volcano, rumbling softly as
the falls rocks bent down like a ball gown. They sing along to the melody of the tune. Their
voices euphonious to the ear.

Slowly, as if sinking into the somber wrath of the underworld, the park drowns in the piercing pits
of turpitude. The nebulosity is egregious, but a sudden streetlight turns on to provide security
and protection. With Persephone’s graceful coax, she pacifies Hades with a single flicker. Her
flowery scent; her hushing breeze and her glow glistens and provides comfort to the citizens,
returning shimmering light to their beloved haven.

Through the beauty of it all sat a wooden bench, crestfallen and desolated. It frowns with it’s
melancholic and lugubrious emotions surfacing on it’s decaying paint. Skin, rotting from old age,
prepares for another night in solitude. Leaning back in fatigue, it hides its aches and soreness
with a feeble gaze. Watching as people neglect him pass by every once in a while, he yearns for
ephemeral comfort, or a stroke of serendipity to fill the void.

It is accompanied by a man and they rejoin in solace during the serenity of the night. The man
holds out a book, tilts and adjusts his glasses. He flips the page every once in a while. A
transient gust of wind greets the man and begins a game of catch. Pushing and swirling around
him, the wind teases and attempts to flip pages for him as he hurriedly applies more force onto
it, careful not to fold the pages. Giggling and running away after, the wind’s beguiling laughter
can still be heard echoing through the park, along with the rustling of leaves that it touches
when it passes by. As if beckoning for someone to follow, it sets off a breeze one last time to
look for a seeker.

Splashing onto the concrete floor is an effulgent glamour of moonlight, caressing and gently
stroking the park as if a mother tending her child. With a flourish, she wraps her pale hands
around, emanating incandescent warmth to the once desolate and neglected child and fills it
with her ethereal glow. Her radiant blaze is a fire; her iridescent flames are beacons, guiding the
road ahead. She watches from above, delicately letting her hair flow like a lustrous flocculent
piece of silk as she drags it along the endless petrous and rough road that stretches onwards,
scintillating her glow with every step.

In the distance, the breeze moves a swing back and forth, weaving back the reminiscence of
innocence as it creaks spontaneously. The park recalls the blissful halcyon days. It hears
squeals of the youth’s joy running through its memories and awakes in its docile slumber.
Slowly, it opens its eyes to the citizens, welcoming them back to their asylum. Finally opening
up it’s decaying gates, the park smiles, beaming in euphoria.